Outcasts
by Lea the Red
Summary: Exiled, cast out, labeled. A dwarf, a dalish elf and a mage are taken from their sheltered worlds and thrown into the chaos of a world facing the Blight. Will they succeed in uniting against the darkspawn all the people that don't trust them? A story following the events in DA origins with multiple wardens. Series of important moments in the story. Rated T for language.
1. Rage

**Rage-**

There was one thing keeping her alive, one thing kept her fighting and walking in the dark, one thing that prevented her spirit from sinking again and kept her going. It was not that she wanted to live, -in truth, she didn't care- it was that she didn't want to give Bhelen the satisfaction of her death. No. She would stay alive just to fuck him. She would stay alive because dying would be like surrendering to him, give the spoiled child what he wanted just because he was screaming louder. No. Gudrun wouldn't do that. She would stay alive and look for the Grey Wardens in the Deep Roads even if it took her months, even if she had to survive eating spiders. Sod the blighter. And sod Trian too. Gudrun blinked several times.

The Deep Roads, how polite of Bhelen. It would've been easier for him to make her 'hang herself' in her cell or choke with her own tongue. Clean work and much more practical. But he couldn't, oh no he couldn't; he was the poor victim, the dear torn-apart-by-sorrow brother, the loyal son. Son of a bitch. She would live, she would live and come back to him just to see the terror in his eyes. Damn right she would.

Gudrun crawled along the tunnel, paying attention to all the sounds, until she finally heard the growls of darkspawn not far from her. It shouldn't be difficult to avoid them, she'd just have to be silent… of course she'd never been very good at that, but at least there was no armour on her to make clanky noises. The dwarf crawled past a couple of genlocks, sheltered by the shadows, far away from their fire. She was going to make it, she was… bump. Something stepped on her. A hurlock. _Damn my luck._

There was no time to think, only time to react. Gudrun jumped backwards and far away from the creature's blade, once in a safe distance, it wasn't hard for a skilled fighter like her to take down a single enemy. The problem was that the thing had howled and that alerted the other two genlocks. Gudrun ran and hid in the corner of a passage, waiting for the monsters to come. The first one appeared and she sank her blade in its skull. The other one was far from her reach, using the bow. An arrow pierced her arm and Gudrun growled. She had two options. Run towards the baster and end him, risking her life, or ran along the corridor to the end of the tunnel, where she could see some light. She was about to charge when a deep laugh echoed behind the genlock. More were coming, Gudrun had no way of knowing how many.

She ran along the passage and away from them, her arm burning. Was she never going to get used to that blasted pain? The laugh was closer, but the end of the passage was also closer. If only she knew what awaited at the end.

"Marek!"

_What…?_

An arrow passed above her and hit the genlock that had been chasing her. Gudrun looked up and saw… men. They were there after all. She wasn't alone in the fight. With that new thought, the dwarf turned around to face the laughing darkspawn and hit it with her shield, finally stabbing it dead. Dead. Just like Trian. She blinked several times before turning around and approaching the wardens.

"Lady Aeducan!"

There was Duncan, the man she'd met at the feast… ah just two days ago. It seemed like a lifetime. It was, in a way, since her previous life was over. Erased from the memories. Smart, Bhelen, very clever. _I will strangle you with my own hands._

"Well, I think it's obvious I'm here to join the Grey Wardens." She spat, all noble education forgotten. "Could any of you get this sodding thing out of my arm, please?"

* * *

**My first attempt to make a "long" story with several chapters in english! O.o Feel free to correct grammar, spelling and stuff like that.**

**This story will be focused on the plotline of Dragon Age Origins, since I played it recently and I really needed to get my emotions out somehow. I may change some tiny details though, have in mind that this is a story with multiple wardens.**

**Note: Marek is a random name for a random grey warden.**


	2. Impotence

It was cold in the phylactery chamber. Really cold. Iola rubbed her palms against her arms and watched the steam fly out of her mouth. She had dreamed with that moment, several nights, but of course in those dreams her own phylactery was there and she smashed it and kicked it and it felt so good. Well, at least one of them was going to be able to actually break free. And stay free. She wondered where Anders' blood was stored… **crash!**

"It's done! I destroyed my phylactery!" Jowan was beaming, and so was Lily, and Iola couldn't help but smile at them. There was something beautiful that her friend had come to understand about love, something that most of the mages in the tower never really even grasped. It was all about sex and friendship and company, more about convenience, and nothing ever lasted. It was kind of sad, but it was the practical thing to do at the Circle. The sensible attitude. No one could escape, so hiding from you ex-lover wasn't something a mage could achieve. It was better to have a fluid relationship with your comrades. It was rational.

"Now let's get out of here, quickly!" Lily said, and rushed towards the door that had been once locked with templar powers. Jowan, Lily and Iola walked up the stairs, looking at each other with excitement and opened the door of the basement carefully, hoping they wouldn't be noticed. But it was too late for that. There were people waiting.

"You were right, Irving. I can't believe it, one of our own initiates!"

The first person who met Iola's eyes was First Enchanter Irving. His expression was concerned and disappointed. Iola felt the guilt running up her throat; watching that expression in her beloved mentor's face was worse than seeing Knight-Commander Gregoir next to him. _Oh no, we're doomed_. The lightest punishment would be to spend a year isolated in a cell; Iola could only hope it didn't get worse than that. Of course in her case, hoping was calling for disaster. Iola wasn't paying attention to the conversation, too focused on her own guilt trip, until she heard the name of the mages prison, which made her stomach twitch.

"I can't believe this betrayal, one of our own… seize her! This deserves Aeonar, initiate."

"Oh no, the mage's prison… no, please…"

"No! I will not let you touch her!"

And then it happened. Right in front of Iola's eyes. Jowan –her Jowan, her friend, merry Jowan- pulled out a knife from his robes and used it to stab his own hand. The blood spilled everywhere, much further away than what should be natural, and knocked down the templars and Irving himself. It was blood magic. Powerful blood magic.

"Jowan…" The air in her lungs was gone. "You- you said… blood magic! You lied to me!"

"I admit it, I dabbled, I thought it would make me a better mage… but that's not important now. I just want to leave. Live another life. Lily."

The initiate had gone so pale that Iola thought she was going to pass out. "I can't believe it… all this time, you were using that! Blood magic is evil, Jowan!"

"I'm sorry Lily. I really am. Please come with me, I'll give it up, all magic. I just want to be with you!"

Lily stepped back, away from him. "I don't know you, blood mage."

Iola saw his expression turning from worried to deeply hurt, and the real magnitude of his actions dawned on him. Jowan gave the both of them one last look and ran away.

The templars and the First Enchanter recovered soon after he left. _I am doomed_. While she helped Irving up, Iola realized that she was going to pay for Jowan's crimes. Left behind, there was no one else to blame except for Lily, even though neither of them knew what Jowan was up to. The Knight-Commander didn't believe them, and since Lily was so traumatized and Gregoir had the power to punish the members of the Chantry as he saw fit, there was nothing much to say about her. They took her to Aeonar. Iola tried to defend her but she didn't let her. Now all what was left was her fate. Thinking about it, with all the cards in the table, Iola could see that the templars wouldn't be satisfied with a year in the dungeons. For all they knew, she could be a blood mage too, and that problems had only two solutions; death or tranquility. It was the logical thing to do. Iola's stomach clenched. The Knight-Commander was a logical man.

"Kinght-Commander, if I may…"

"Duncan!"

There was the Grey Warden Irving wanted her to meet, with the grumpy dwarf behind him. "I am not only seeking for mages to join the king's army, I'm also recruiting for the Grey Wardens. I'm sure this woman could be an excellent asset."

"This person helped a blood mage escape!"

"Rare is the person who risks so much for a friend…"

"I will not tolerate-"

Iola almost jumped towards Duncan, she felt so light she thought she would fly. There was the third option. Her third option.

"It the wardens have me, I will gladly join them!" It was now or never. She had showed interest in joining the army, –to see the world, mainly- but the circumstances had changed. Iola was a sensible person, and she knew that accepting the hand Duncan was offering her, was the sensible thing to do.

* * *

**Note: Iola's name is my little tribute to the two Iolas that apear in the Geralt of Rivia Saga. They were so lovely.**


	3. Confusion

**Confusion-**

"He's waking up. Hahren, he's waking up."

"Ah, welcome back, lethallin."

Miach fought with his own eyelids for a while, and he was finally able to open them. At first it didn't seem real; the tent, the dim lights, the eyes of the woman. Ah, his keeper, yes.

"Keeper…?" Pieces of memory were floating inside his head, there was him of course, and there was Tamlen his good friend. Oh Tamlen… wait, the mirror, the ruins! What were they doing there in the camp? How did they get there? Miach tried to sit up and dizziness knocked him down again. "Where's Tamlen? Is he alright?"

"Oh lethallin, you must rest, you've overcome a great deal of pain and sickness. It's been three days since Duncan found you."

Miach didn't recognize the name, it sounded shemlen though. Was the hahren saying that a shem had saved him from… whatever that had happened?

"Where is Tamlen?" He asked again, though the lack of answer the first time was giving him a bad feeling. A chill ran down his spine. Miach had very strong instincts.

"Duncan found only you, Miach. There were no signs of Tamlen."

"But we were together… in the ruins we were together, he was right next to me when-" He trailed off, his brain was starting to process the events that had taken place in the ruin. They found a strange mirror, Tamlen couldn't stop looking, he touched it and then…

"You were alone lethallin, outside the ruins. You've been sick for three days, and I was afraid all my knowledge wouldn't be enough to save you."

Miach rubbed his forehead. Creators, every part of his body ached. "Three days? I don't understand…" Did he abandon Tamlen in that place? Did he? "Did I leave him alone?"

"Do not blame yourself; I am surprised you even made it outside the ruins. You were barely conscious when I found you." This second voice was unfamiliar, yet Miach could recall hearing it before.

Of course… when he approached, the young elf recognized the face that he thought he had seen in a dream. It was a shem, dark skinned like himself and with a great nose, unlike himself. He said his name was Duncan and that he was a grey warden. Not that that meant much to Miach, but he ought to be thankful, at least, even though he felt like everybody had failed his friend. Well, he was not going to let that happen twice. He'd go find Tamlen. Yes.

"I am feeling better now, Keeper, thanks to you. I think I should go back to those ruins to see if I can find Tamlen."

"Your friend is most likely dead," The shemlen said in a resigned tone that Miach didn't like in the slightest.

"How do you know that? You said you didn't see him." Miach fought against the dizziness and the hole in his stomach and got up. "He could be out there; sick like me… he needs help."

Duncan shook his head, "Your Keeper used all her magic and knowledge to keep you alive. Tamlen could have not survived for three days without healing." Miach shook his head, refusing to accept that information. He turned to his Keeper. The woman had a worried look in her face.

"Ma serannas, hahren. I'm feeling better, and I must go find my friend, and if not him, at least his body." Creators, those last words tasted like ash.

The Keeper did not oppose him, and she even sent her apprentice, Merrill, with Miach to help him in his search for Tamlen's body, though it seemed more like a necessity to put his mind at ease more than to retrieve the corpse. Duncan found them already in the room where the mirror was, and finally convinced Miach to give up and return to camp. The elf was devastated.

When they returned, Miach noticed that there were more strangers within the camp than Duncan. Two companions; a durgen'len and another shemlen, they looked a bit confused and lost, specially the shem. The dwarf seemed angry. Suddenly the human girl looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. She had a concerned expression in her face, and Miach smiled instinctively at her, not really knowing what else to do. People in his clan often told him that he had that weird habit of smiling when he was uncomfortable, and he certainly was. He didn't want to talk with the outsiders, nor with anyone for that matter, though his hopes of getting a bit of peace and quiet were crashed when his keeper and that shem –Duncan- approached him and asked him to have a word in private.

"So I- I'm going to die?"

Duncan nodded, "You've been infected by the Taint. Only the abilities of your keeper had kept you alive this far."

"I am sorry, lethallin, but Duncan speaks the truth."

"But I feel… fine."

"Even so, you are not, and you are a danger to your entire clan, for you could spread the disease."

Miach noticed there was a knot in his throat. He knew where that conversation was going. "You're casting me out." _To die alone._

"There is still a way you could save your life. It's dangerous, but in your current situation you have nothing to lose."

"What does he mean, hahren?"

The Keeper looked at Miach with infinite compassion. "He's offering you the opportunity to become a grey warden. That could save your life, Miach."

* * *

**Third and last warden, Miach Mahariel. Miach is the name of a physician of the irish mythilogy that has a beautiful and sad legend about jelousy and herbs, so i thought it was a cool name for my warden.**

**As always, feel free to correct spelling and grammar and of course voice your opinion.**

**It goes without saying that Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.**


	4. Interlude

"I can do that. Do not waste those." Iola knelt beside Duncan and lit the fire with a weak fire spell. There was no need to use their supplies when she could do that so easily.

"I sometimes forget how useful magic is." The man said. Iola scowled.

"Everybody tends to forget that. The Chantry says that magic exist to serve man, but they won't even let us try and be useful." That was a statement to live by, Miach thought. He'd been raised by people that made mages their keepers and trained them to be leaders and mentors and healers.

A silence came after those words, as they chewed their dinner. They were traveling to the ruins of Ostagar, and ancient Tevinter post, Duncan told them. There, they would officially join the Grey Wardens and participate in the upcoming battle against the darkspawn. Apparently, king Cailan was leading the army himself. Not that Miach cared, of course.

He looked at his companions one by one, carefully. Duncan seemed to be deep in thought, little wrinkles adorning his frown. That must be a man with a lot of things to worry about. The durgen'len, Gudrun, seemed fine; tired, and still angry and silent as she didn't put two words together is she could help it, but fine. Iola though, she looked exhausted. Miach could understand why. If he recalled correctly, humans and flat-ear mages were taken to the Tower of the Circle and couldn't leave the place until they were really old or really wise and only under special circumstances. She couldn't be used to all that walking and sleeping in the outside. "All those stairs in the tower never prepared me for this", she told him the day before.

"You should all rest." Duncan told them. "Tomorrow will be a long day, as I hope we can make it to Ostagar before sunset and we'll need to keep a quick pace." Iola sighed, but didn't complain. At least Miach would give her that; she endured in spite of her lack of training.

"You need to sleep too, Duncan." The dwarf spoke. It was a long sentence for her.

"Thank you for your concern, but I am better than I look. If you wish though, I can wake you up later to take the second watch." She nodded and immediately wrapped her bedroll around her and forgot them all. Iola did the same not much later, though Duncan and Miach could feel her shivering now and then before she fell asleep. Miach lay in the ground, looking at the stars, and he tried not to think about his clan. A new life was waiting; nothing to lose, everything to gain. But then, why did it feel like someone had ripped him apart and eaten his heart? He fell asleep feeling its beat.

* * *

Someone patted her shoulder. "Up." Iola opened her eyes with a groan and saw Gudrin standing up and leaving her side to wake the elf too. Up. A monosyllable, who would've guessed. The mage sat up and stretched her arms before finally starting to collect her things and prepare for the long march of today. Walking was already painful, and Iola grimaced at the thought of another long day being tormented by the blisters in her feet, but there was no use in complaining. It had been all she have ever wanted; to get out of the Tower, and now she was out, though not the way she'd planned it.

Nevertheless, it could have been Aeonar or tranquility or even death so she guessed she could endure some blisters.

The sky was a soft tone of orange when they finally reached the ruins. The king himself greeted them, and he was addressed by the three new recruits with a mixture of polite indifference and cold courtesy. Iola did almost all the talking, using and even calm tone that wouldn't betray her excitement. She thought that if the mages could make a good impression on the king, he might reconsider the current laws about mages, give the Circle a little more freedom.

"Good man, bad king." Gudrun muttered after the monarch left. He had been polite and correct with them, even if Miach was an elf and Iola a mage, and he had shown interest in Gudrun's past, but he couldn't see she didn't really want to talk about it and took the subject lightly. Neither the former lady Aeducan, nor Duncan gave away much about the recent events in Orzammar.

"It is not our place to judge, Gudrun."

"But I do have a point. He does not seem to take this Blight very seriously."

At least not in the way the Wardens thought it was serious. Blight was a matter of death and horror, not a game or a sport. Tales tell the stories of men and women who did terrible, great things, but one cannot truly grasp the horror of it all if he hasn't seen it.

Duncan guided them to where the wardens were camping. Some of them were already sleeping, others were up and about. Two of the older ones nodded at Gudrun when they saw her. "Atrast vala, lady Aeducan." They said, politely, using the formal dwarven greeting as a sign of respect. Gudrun had proved herself to be a remarkable fighter and a smart strategist back in the Deep Roads. "Marek, Ruy. Good to see you."

Iola raised her eyebrows; that must've been the biggest display of merriment she'd ever witnessed from Gudrun, even if she didn't say much after that. They shared a tent for the night, and Miach slept in the open because he said he preferred it to share a tent with an unknown shem –"no offense intended, of course" "none taken"-.

"So… you're a lady?"

Gudrun didn't even look at her. "I was a princess. Not anymore."

Iola's eyes widened. _A princess… wow_. Though she said nothing more to disturb her, guessing the dwarf would want some rest. In truth, Gudrun wasn't asleep; she laid awake for hours until the mage beside her began to snore softly and that brought her some comfort.

* * *

**Again let me remind you that you are wellcome to correct any misuse of the english language. Everything belongs to Bioware bla bla bla you know how it goes.**


	5. Sarcasm and darkspawn blood

The morning after, the three of them visited the quarter master. There was a small man trying to engage a pretty soldier in some activities not directly related with war, and he wasted no time after she rejected him, turning around on his heels to look at the curious trio. "Well, there's three of you, and not quite what we had expected."

Gudrun grunted.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Asked Miach in a voice that implied that he knew exactly what the man meant. His arms were folded, mirroring the man. They carried themselves with a similar stance, Iola noticed.

The other seemed sharp, and quickly realized his mistake. "Oh nothing, nothing… I guess I was just expecting more stuck up knights like ser Jory there… you know, the usual in these parts."

Gudrun rolled her eyes. This one was smart enough to know when to shut up. At least in the presence of an angry dwarf with an axe, an offended elf with two knives and a skeptical mage.

"So you're going to be a Grey Warden too?" Iola asked.

"That's right. Name's Daveth."

"I'm Iola, these are Gudrun and Miach." The elf's eyes were still narrowed, but he looked relaxed. "Daveth, do you know anything about the joining?" As always, at the mention of the joining Miach winced.

"It looks suspicious, doesn't it? It's all too secretive. I happened to be sneaking around the camp yesterday night and I heard two of the Wardens talking. It looks like we're going to the Korcari Wilds!"

"The Wilds?" Gudrun asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, it's all that huge piece of forest right there. Nasty place, trust me. I grew up in a village near here and I know. There are all sorts of creatures in there, barbarians, witches…"

"Barbarians? You mean chasind?" Iola's eyes widened. "That's fascinating!"

Daveth looked at her as if she'd just gone mad. "If you say so, magey… I'd rather not run into any of them."

"Why not? Well I've read they are warriors and that they can get a bit too protective with their territory but-"

"A bit too protective?! They're savages! I've heard they eat your guts and all kinds of gross stuff."

"Ha! Shems believe in all kinds of stupid things." Miach didn't seem angry anymore, even though he was practically calling the other one stupid. At the same time, Dathev didn't seem to take any offense from that comment. He just shrugged.

"We've got to find a warden named Alistair, do you know where he is?" The mage asked, changing the subject.

"No clue, magey. Well, I guess I'll see you later then." And he walked away, not casting one last funny look at Iola and winking.

Miach and Gudrun wanted to go to the practice yard, to check on the skill of the troupes first, so Iola left them to it, not really wanting to hear or the ranting about weapons and armour. She figured that someone in that bloody camp would know where that Alistair was.

* * *

"Oh, the boy?" A sister of the Chantry kindly answered. She had been asking for a while. "He went up to the old temple to deliver some message to that stuck up bastard of Ceifell."

"Dana!"

"What? He's terrible even for a mage."

"Ahem…"

"Oh sorry darling, it's just that I can't… I can't stand him aaarg!"

Iola muttered a thank you and resumed her quest, still surprised that an initiate had called her 'darling'. When she reached the top of the ramp, there was a curious scene going on.

* * *

"… get out of my way, fool!"

Iola had been watching the exchange between the mage and the one who must be that Alistair Duncan had spoken about. It had been… amusing, if a bit unnecessary. The young warrior turned around and looked at her, smiling.

"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

That was… well, a great line. She tilted her head. "Heh. You're weird."

"You are not the first one to point that out." He said. "I suppose you don't happen to be another mage…"

This time, Iola sighed. It was always the same. _Uh, mages, dangerous and disgusting creatures with fiery red eyes and fangs_. Ugh. "No, I'm just wearing this Circle robes because they're so pretty, and this branch in my back I use it to poke the coals in the fire."

_Very nice, Alistair_. He felt the need to slap himself. "Oh, right, I'm sorry. I don't mind, it's just that that increases my chances of being yelled at considerably."

Considering the previous conversation, his fears were understandable. "Well, I'm not here to yell at you. Duncan sent me. Well… that in case you are Alistair, because if not, then I said nothing."

"Oh right! You are one of Duncan's new recruits! I'm sorry, I should've recognized you right away. The one from the Circle of Magi… what was your name again?"

"Iola."

He grinned. "Right, that was the name. And I'm Alistair, but of course you knew that." He scratched his neck, wishing he could stop making an ass of himself. Alistair studied the mage in front of him. She was tall, just some inches shorter than him, brown hair on a simple short braid, and Alistair suspected that had she had training as a warrior, she would've been a strong pretty terrifying one. She had a funny round nose.

"You know, I've been thinking, there haven't been many women among the grey wardens, I wonder why that is…"

"Maybe… because we're too intelligent for you?" It was not the smartest answer, but Iola was slightly out of place.

"Hah, true, but then what does that make you?"

Now she knew the right answer. "Incredibly unlucky?"

"Ouch."

"Ha! I like this one!" Iola turned around and saw her fellow recruits standing behind her. Miach smiled approvingly at the blonde man, and Gudrun gave him that look that said 'you wouldn't last three days in Orzammar'.

Alistair glanced at them and then back at Iola, eyebrow raised.

Iola smiled warmly. "I guess that means you're not bad for a shem."

"Shem?"

"Human." Miach said, approaching. "We've been around trying to figure out which one we would like to bed, which one we'd kill and which one we'd share a drink with. So far, Iola is fine."

Alistair reached out a hand, but the elf didn't take it, he just waved awkwardly. "I take it you are the other two new recruits?" He asked, a bit confused at that gesture. Apparently, the dalish didn't shake hands.

"Andaran atish'an, I am Miach Mahariel of the Sabrae clan, and this is…"

"Gudrun, of hou- of Orzammar." Alistair, who was not unfamiliar with dwarven culture, had noticed that before the word Orzammar had almost been a 'house'. She wasn't castless then, which made him curious about how that woman had ended up in the surface.

"We were wondering, actually… if you could tell us something about this joining…" Iola was becoming somewhat of an expert at changing the subject

"There's not much to know. You don't worry about it, we should get going." Gudrun and Iola exchanged looks of suspicion and Miach looked just sick. That made Gudrun frown even harder. Iola and her had not been told the whole story about Miach's sickness, but it had something to do with the taint of the darkspawn, and even though the elf didn't give away details it was clear that he had his hopes set on becoming a Grey Warden. This joining seemed too secretive, too dark… there was something really wrong about all that, she thought, but she quickly pushed those thoughts away. It was not the time to be thinking about those things. There was no turning back for her, and probably not for her companions either. Sighing, Gudrun thought that was going to be a long day. She rubbed her temples and next thing she knows, they're in the Korcari wilds.

* * *

"Well isn't this pretty."

"It is."

"Oi, magey, I was being sarcastic."

"Don't go hard on her, shem, she's spent most of her life in a tower."

"Then I'll just give her a bucket of sand and she'll have fun playing with it like a child?"

"Oddly enough, we had plenty of sand at the Circle."

"One would think you'd have plenty of sarcasm too…"

"Shut up." Gudrun hushed them, and she pointed at Alistair, who had become quiet all of a sudden.

"More darkspawn." He said, finally. "This group is larger, and I can sense a mage."

Miach's lips twitched in a grim smile "Let's see what they've got." It was a personal war now, more than a Blight. It was because of those creatures that Tamlen was dead, and he would show those seth'lin about vengeance.

Those words surprised the others, but Gudrun nodded and started walking in the direction Alistair had pointed. They didn't have to wait long to hear the first cocky growl. _Ugh. Disgusting._ They fought their way into the wilds, between the flash of ice spells and Miach's war cries. Gudrun observed her companions; Alistair was strong and quick, Iola had the ability to remain calm under pressure, and Miach was a lot fiercer than he looked. _Not bad for topsiders._

* * *

**Well hello there. First thing I'm going to tell you something about the length of the chapters: there are no rules. I basically write a scene and won't really pay much attention to the number of words. So there's that. Just so you know. Related to the length issue; yes, the scene in the Korcari wilds is short, but I didn't want to go through all the darkspawn-morrigan-flemeth part that you all know so well.**

**Second think thank you to the people that have checked this thing, or even followed the story! And thanks to FalconHawk for the kind review.**

**As always, feel free to correct grammar and spelling that can help me improve my english and of course Bioware owns everything etc etc etc**


	6. Sometimes, someone dies

Asha'belannar. The thought still sent shivers down his spine. Watching the dusk again –redder this time-, Miach remembered their adventure into the wilds, the day he'd finally met Asha'belannar Flemeth… and her daughter. Morrigan had something, no, she was something special. Iola had immediately liked her, she didn't say anything of course, but Miach could read in her face the fascination. It was possible that she'd dreamed many nights with that kind of life, far from the Chantry and the templars, that she'd wondered how it would be like to have a family, to have a mother that taught her the magic, a real family, and a mother to warn her about the dangers of the Fade instead of the sermons of the initiates.

It was miraculous, Miach thought, how he was able to think about others now. His mind was no longer occupied with the constant fear of the taint. He had been cured, in a way, and he felt stronger than ever, faster than ever, and his reflexes at their finest. There was still the death of Tamlen, of course, scratching his brain every few seconds, but in a strange, twisted kind of way, he felt alive again.

He heard Gudrun approaching but said nothing, and she didn't greet him either when she sat beside him, next to the camp fire. He watched her with the corner of his eye. Gudrun was blonde, a dirty shade of yellow tied in two elaborated buns, she had a little pretty nose and high cheekbones that made the shape of her square jaw even sharper. She was frowning, as always. She looked like there was something on her mind that she was always chewing on. Miach wondered what it might be. Something that happened underground.

"Hey."

He turned around this time, and Iola was there, she seemed worried.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Besides the fact that I've never been in a battle and there is going to be one tonight? No, not really." A silence. "Well, maybe."

Miach arched an eyebrow. "Do tell."

The mage shook her head, staring at the fire. "It's stupid. An old prejudice. I shouldn't let it get the best of me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hey, people!" Alistair called them from a distance; he was carrying something in his arms and a wide grin on his face. "I brought you some food; decent bread and one of the finest cheeses I could get."

Iola smiled and looked confused at the same time. _What's wrong with her?_ Gudrun took the piece of bread Alistair was offering her and chewed it in silence, along with her thoughts.

"This cheese smells really good." Miach said.

"Chantry cheese. I mean, from their stocks, not that there's a specific cheese only they make. Well actually there are some places where the Chantry owns a farm… ah… I'm sorry, I'm babbling again. Just try it, it's really good. Iola, do you want some? Iola? Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes… it's just…" She scratched her elbow. "I had never seen anyone die before tonight." She finally said.

Oh, so that's what was bothering her. Understandable. Alistair's face darkened, and suddenly he looked older. "Yes. It's terrible. And I'm sorry you had to see it…"

"Don't be." Iola reasoned. There was a strange spark in her eyes, cold and logical, like she was concentrating on a mathematical problem. "There's a battle tonight. It was better to have that experience before it. I know nothing about war, but I had to start learning at some point."

Silence fell upon them, though there was no silence around them. The comforting cracking of the fire and the sounds of people preparing for battle were everywhere. Miach looked at the stars once again, -early spectators to the upcoming battle- and remembered the two companions that had fallen that day. He hadn't really liked ser Jory, but seeing someone die is never pleasant. And Daveth… Daveth was alright. Ignorant like most shems, but alright. He remembered how he wouldn't stop calling Iola 'magey'. She probably liked that.

"You should eat." He almost winced when he heard Gudrun's voice, but the durgen'len wasn't talking to him.

"You're right." Iola answered. "To be honest, I'm really hungry." She said, taking a piece of bread and cheese from Alistair. The man smiled, seeing now every one of them was eating, and sat beside Iola.

She shrunk a bit when he did, only a tiny bit, and quickly fought to relax her position again. Iola couldn't help it, it was just a natural reaction for her; make herself small, unnoticeable, trying not to catch **their** attention. **They** meaning templars. But then again, he was no templar anymore; he had never been, not really. He didn't even like it, Alistair had claimed, hated it even.

Iola had asked about his past, regarding the incident with Ceifell, and Alistair obliged; and even if he was nice, and polite, and not at all templar-like, after so many years in the Tower there were certain behaviors and instincts that couldn't be just switched off. She would have to fight against them. There was no Tower, no Circle, and no fear for her anymore.

Iola gave the cheese a bite. _Mmmm._

"Delicious, isn't it?" Alistair said. "_Divine_, you could say."

She chuckled, and almost choked with the piece of cheese. Miach laughed, and even Gudrun let out a snort of appreciation.

They remained silent for a while after that, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, they seemed to be at peace with each other. Gudrun was sitting hugging her knees, Miach was lying down, with his arms crossed under his head, Alistair rested his weigh on his elbows, and Iola was sitting legs crossed.

"Do war councils always take this long?" The elf asked after a while.

"Yes." Gudrun answered.

"Oh." Another silence. "At least all we have to worry about is slaughtering darkspawn." The thought brought a smile to Miach's face.

Iola wanted to ask him if he had always been that bloodthirsty, but she thought she shouldn't ask until they had their first fight against people, if it ever took place, of course. Even if he was, Iola thought, she doubted she would dislike him. Miach easy to get along with, despite being dalish. _Oh hush, don't ever say that out loud. Don't even think it_. The people that spread awful rumours about the dalish were the same that had the mages locked up. Iola frowned.

"Why are you frowning so hard? Are you trying to beat Gudrun in her own territory?" Alistar whispered, to make sure the dwarf didn't hear him, and Iola winced, but couldn't help a chuckle when she recovered.

"I'm just thinking."

"You do a lot of thinking, are you sure that's good for your health?"

Iola evaluated the question, even if it wasn't meant to be serious, and took a moment before answering. "Well, the last time I preferred to act before thinking I ended up swallowing darkspawn blood. That can't be good for my health either."

Alistair looked at her in surprise, he smiled, and then burst into laughter.

* * *

Duncan came back from his meeting with the king shortly after that, gathered all the four together and explained the strategy that had been proposed. "The king has requested that it be two of you who perform this task, and that one of them should be you, Alistair."

A stream of understanding passed between the two men. Miach and Iola were too nervous to notice, but Gudrun caught the glare Alistair was casting in Duncan's direction. There was something going on there, ancestors be damned, and an Aeducan recognized a secret when she saw one.

However, the glare didn't last long, and Alistair carried on complaining about not being able to be in the battle. Duncan repeated that those were the king's orders, and that they should not refuse, Cailan being one of the few allies of the Grey Wardens.

"The task is really simple, so I'd suggest you take Iola with you. No offense, child, but you've never seen a battle."

"None taken."

"When the beacon is lit, you two can join us in the battlefield. Gudrun, Miach, you will join me and the rest of the Grey Wardens in the front line."

They nodded, Gudrun all business, and Miach with a dark grin.

"Let us go then."

"Duncan." Alistair sounded worried this time, deadly serious. "Maker watch over you."

"Maker watch over us all."

* * *

"This was supposed to be simple! What are all these darkspawn doing here?!" Alistair said, while pulling his sword out of one of the bodies. Iola was panting at the top of the stairs, barely able to sustain her mana. "Wasn't it you the one complaining about not being able to fight?"

"Heh, I guess you're right. Always the silver lining, eh?"

Iola shook her head. That one was humorous even when all covered in that filthy dark blood, and not at all tired. Not like her, who was wondering for the tenth time what was with the tevinter and their damned towers. While running upstairs was something she was familiar with, –that was pretty much all the exercise they got at the Tower- fighting for her life while doing it wasn't something she'd practiced before.

"Ey, are you alright?" Iola nodded. "Good, we should get going; I think we're close to the top now. And thanks for the healing back there."

"Yeah…" She had to save her breath for all the running and fighting, they could exchange pleasantries later.

The two of them and their two improvised companions –two soldiers previously escaping the tower- rushed upstairs and opened one last door, hoping they could light the damned beacon in peace, or at least to fight the darkspawn that could be there quickly, only to find the last thing Iola had wanted to see: a huge ogre tearing apart a man.

Her brain allowed her knees to weaken for a few seconds before resuming the problem-solving mode that had gotten her that far. What did they had there? A gigantic, murdering ogre, but thank the Maker, it was only one. She was the only mage, but one of the soldiers was an archer. Well, they'd have to stay away from it, unless they wanted a gruesome painful death. Iola figured she'd do more good supporting her companions than trying to take down the creature with direct damage. It was better to try and paralyze it, make it slow, and heal the others now and then.

"Aim at its eyes!" She heard Alistiar shout, while he and the other soldier jumped forwards to try and hurt the beast's legs. Iola did her part the best she could, trying to freeze or slow the creature, but Maker she was exhausted.

* * *

"That bloody beacon should be burning already!" Marek spat.

"It's not too late."

"But it is, nevertheless. Something's wrong."

Miach was enjoying himself, at least until Marek voiced his thoughts. He had set aside his blades, for he was more useful with the bow in that particular moment, and there he was with the warden Marek, covering his companions from a distance with their arrows. Marek was an excellent archer, or at least he was until he began looking more at the tower of Ishal than at their enemies.

"Grab your blades, Miach, we're going to Duncan."

They reached the Commander and the other wardens in a weird quiet moment, while the darkspawn made way for what was probably going to be an alpha.

"What about the tower?" Marek asked.

"What about it?"

"There's something wrong. Can't you feel it?" To Miach's dismay, Duncan nodded.

"A small group, it feels like they're at our backs, but there's still the army and the mages there."

"And the Tower."

"They're coming!" A voice cried from a distance. "It's a general!"

They say one of the most important abilities of a leader is making important decisions under pressure in record time, to have a gut that tells the truth when they don't have the time to trust their brains. Duncan tightened the grip on his weapons, then looked at Marek first and then back at Miach. "Gudrun!" He called. The former princess appeared behind him with her battle axe all covered in blood and her hair messier than in the Deep Roads.

"Aye, commander?"

"You and Miach are going to the tower of Ishal."

"What?"

"Someone has to carry on with the task, in case something has happened to our fellow wardens. Now go."

Gudrun glanced at Marek, and for the first time Miach saw her hesitate. All the hardness was gone from her face, and he could see fear. The expression in the other grey warden's face was pity.

"But-" She began.

"No. you must go. Now. Miach, you must go."

The durgen'len had gone pale, white as a ghost, she looked completely out of place. Miach grabbed her wrist.

"Marek…" She pleaded, still looking at the senior warden. Marek's expression hardened.

"Go! Now! It's an order, lady Aeducan!"

Those words felt like cold water pouring all over her. Gudrun nodded and turned around to follow Miach out of the battle field. The shouts of alarm echoed in her ears way longer after they could actually be heard, and Marek's bitter tone stuck with her all the way to the tower. Her insides clenched, but she dismissed it. No time for that, they had a mission.

* * *

"Iola was here." Miach said, looking at the frozen body of a genlock. In their ascensionof the tower, floor after floor, they didn't find the bodies of their companions, yet plenty of drakspawn had been slain.

"This must be what Marek and Duncan were talking about when they said they were feeling the darkspawn behind us. They were here, in the tower." Miach said.

Gudrun nodded. She hadn't recovered her natural skin colour yet. "Let's go, there's still one more floor. Iola and Alistair could be dead in the top of the tower for all we know."

"Don't say that."

Gudrun looked at him, and her gaze was full of pity and defeat, but impatience too. That kid from the forest knew nothing of war. He had seen death, he had seen fights and darkspawn and he knew how to defend himself and others; but still the acceptance of the horror was unkown to him. It was not with hope, but with innocence, that he'd said those words. Gudrun wasn't going to answer, no, she was going tall him to move when they heard something under them. In the third or second floor.

The clash of metal, guttural growls, footsteps, feet running.

"There are more coming." Miach breathed.

"Run!"

"Where?!"

"Upstairs!"

"We'll be trapped! It's suicide!"

"We have to light the beacon! It's our responsibility!" Sometimes, someone dies. It is so simple.

They stumbled across the door and the ogre pushed Alistair in their direction. The warrior was lying at their feet, breathing heavily. There was a scream, and Gudrun saw Iola cornered between the ogre and the beacon. Alistair jerked his head up and tried to resume the battle. Miach tried to shoot from his position while Gudrun ran towards the beast.

Iola was seeing the face of death, and its breath was disgusting. She knew the beacon was behind her and thought, that if she was going to die, at least she should try and fulfill their duty. She barely had mana for one spell. One spell and that was all. She could try and attack the ogre, with little chances of even slowing it, or she could light the beacon and die with the satisfaction of a job well done. Oh well.

"Don't do it!" Gudrun's voice came from behind the ogre. She'd read her intentions like an open book. Maker, that woman was smart.

"Stun it and run! Now!"

Well who was the strategist there? Iola? Not at all. The mage did as she was told and used what was left of her strength to try and stun the creature with mental explosion. The she jumped out of its way, just in time to see Gudrun literally breaking one of its knees, and Alistair on his feet again, attacking the other leg.

The ogre fell, and while trying to get up, a small shadow ran across the room and leaped to its back. Two curved daggers reflected for an instant the dim light of the room before stabbing the monster in the neck several times. The creature fell dead with a low, desperate growl and a loud thump when all its weigh hit the floor. Miach got off his back, and it was then when Gudrun and him remembered they were running away from something. Many somethings.

Iola spoke up. "Thank you, Gudrun, you saved my-"

"No time for thanks! Block the door! Light the beacon and block the door! Quickly!"

Miach didn't waste any time and grabbed a torch hanging nearby to light the fire. Iola and Alistair were still confused. Their companions were dead.

"There are more darkspawn coming, they'll be here in any moment!"

Alistair didn't need to hear that twice. Both warriors ran to the door and held in close, while Iola and Miach carried broken furniture to create a barricade. Alistair and Gudrun looked at each other's eyes, completely understanding. Their thoughts were running in a very similar way. _Even if they win the battle down there, we're lost._ Gudrun's look seemed to say. _I know. We did our duty._ Alistair's eyes answered. Once they had secured the door, they stepped out of the way and waited, two at each side of the door; Gudrun with Miach, and Iola with Alistair. The mage had swallowed one more lyrium potion, and had again that logical expression in her face.

"The barricade won't hold forever." Miach commented. The grunts and howls coming from the stairs were more audible now.

"We did our duty." Gudrun answered. She was fine with that, only sorry she wouldn't get to face Bhelen again. With a bit of luck, he'd trip with his own beard and fall into a river of lava.

* * *

**Heeello! Well first thing thank you again for reading this! I have a lot of fun writing it. Second, I'd like you to know that I didn't really plan to write the scene in the tower of Ishal, but it kind of happened so there you go. I hope you enjoyed it. Also, as always, feel free to correct grammar, spelling, idioms etc etc.**

**And of course: Bioware is the lord and owner of this Dragon Age stuff, you know, the cool things; Ostagar, Alistair, Duncan, darkspawn, elvish...**

**Asha'belannar is an elven term for 'woman of many years': Flemeth.**


	7. Interlude with knife

Gudrun woke up feeling her leg still sore. Hardly surprising, considering how it had been butchered at the top of the tower of Ishal. Dwarves were naturally resistant to magic, and so it made the healing a bit slower, since Morrigan and her mother had had to rely more in herbs and poultices. It had been two days since Ostagar, Morrigan had gotten them past the horde and now they were reaching Lothering, their next destination.

Gudrun had her eyes open when the giant bird broke through the roof of the tower and took them. Miach had a horrible gash in his head, and Alistair was bleeding badly, but remained on his feet -or knees- covering Iola, who was lying behind him with three arrows stuck in her chest. How she had survived that, Gudrun could only explain it with one word: Flemeth. The old hag seemed to have plans for them; whether those plans were what she said about defeating the Blight or something else, Gudrun could not tell. Flemeth didn't leave too much space to spy her secrets.

She tried to get up and the sudden pain in her knee knocked her off her feet again and made her stumble over the large figure sleeping beside her. Alistair groaned, tried to grab the hilt of his sword, flinched with the pain of sudden movement and groaned again.

"Gudrun! What in the name of Andraste…?"

"Aahhrg…" She growled. "It's this sodding knee…"

"Well, do you think you could get your elbow off of my ribs?"

"Hmpf, sorry."`

They had spent the night all snuggled together –except for Morrigan- under a very basic roof of blankets that Flemeth had provided. Iola had slept between Miach and herself, and the mage had shivered for quite some time before she could sleep, hugging Miach like he was the last source of heat in the world.

Alistair rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake up and looked at the pair with a hint of envy. Why was that, Gudrun was not in the mood to think about it.

Slowly, carefully, she got up and limped towards Morrigan, who was already awake, taking the last watch.

"Ah, good, finally up." The witch said, and looked down at the dwarf's legs. "I could provide a poultice for the pain, but it may be better if you wait until your friend, the Circle pet, awakes. She should be able to do that without wasting materials."

Gudrun nodded. "You're right."

In the meantime, Alistair had decided to try and wake the other two. He knelt beside them, and reached a hand to touch Iola's shoulder, but in the last moment he decided not to, and chose to shake Miach's arm, maybe a bit too abruptly. Big mistake.

The elf screamed and turned to face Alistair with his knife in his hand. The former templar grabbed his wrist, more reflex than anything, and stared at Miach eyes wide open. There was confusion in the elf's gaze, as if he didn't really know where he was or what he was doing. Surprise and the strength of Alistair's grip made Miach drop the knife.

Under them, Iola screamed as she covered her face with her hands. There was a bit of blood.

"Oh, Iola!"

The knife was already on the floor and the healing magic flowing around Iola's injured palms when Morrigan approached.

"You idiots! 'Twas the massacre of your order not enough that you want to kill each other already?! Did you want to make a fourth hole in the poor girl's chest to match with the other three?" Alistair detached his gaze from Iola's hands and looked up at Morrigan, looking completely abashed. He opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out of it.

Morrigan centered her attention in her fellow mage again. "Are you alright?"

Iola got up, already healed, for it was a minor cut. "I'm fine, Morrigan. Thanks for asking."

Miach followed her. "I'm sorry Iola! It was an accident, I…"

"What in the Maker's name were you doing?" Her tone wasn't accusatory, she didn't even sound angry, just surprised, and slightly concerned.

The elf rubbed his forehead. "I don't… know… when Alistair woke me up I…" He knew. He really knew, but he didn't want to tell, he was embarrassed, apparently. And ashamed of what had just happened.

"Were you- um… dreaming?"

Miach gave her a curious look, between approving and apologetic. "I was. You know, with… the clan." Iola nodded and apparently that was the end of the discussion. There was no more talk about knives and dreams and worried apologies from either of them. They joined Gudrun and Morrigan for breakfast friends again.

Alistair, however, was not taking it so lightly. He was still kneeling over the pelts where they had slept. His face had changed its colour at least three times. First pale when Miach drew his blade, then even paler when Iola got hurt, then red at Morrigan's words, and now his skin had an ashy tone. He looked sick. Truth was, the whole incident had been enlightening for him, slapping his senses hard, so to speak. Miach was having dreams, dreams of his own, not warden nightmares; the cheerful dalish had traumas and a past of his own. And then they had hurt Iola, and she didn't even yell at them, didn't get angry. She was completely understanding and sensitive with Miach's reaction even if it had almost meant losing an eye for her.

And then there was Gudrun. She was being strong for them all. He noticed she seemed sadder and angrier than before, -Miach said he had witnessed the strangest exchange of glances between their dear dwarf and the senior warden Marek- but she carried on. Because it was their duty. Alistair had to wake up, he knew he had to wake up. He watched Iola while she showed her healing work to Morrigan. He had to wake up.

* * *

"She was already with Duncan when he recruited me." Iola explained in a quiet tone. Neither Gudrun nor Morrigan were around in that moment. "We didn't talk much though. I mean, look at her now, she looks so… so miserable. It was even worse then. Barely put two words together."

"Well, things haven't been exactly getting better." Alistair said, bitterly.

"I know I know. It's just… I don't know. It makes me so sad. I mean, none of us have been exactly having a good time," she pointed at herself, Alistair and Miach, and the elf nodded, "but imagine how hard it must be for her, when your brother…"

Iola left the sentence unfinished, but in her mind was still running. How hard it must be when your brother, your favourite brother, the one you've played with all your life, does that to you? The one that looked so much like you when you were children. The same dirty blonde hair, the same dark, deep eyes, the same air, the same way to look at people as if you were smarter than them… how hard it must be when that very same brother betrays you. Kills your eldest brother, and then blames you, makes your father believe it. Plots against you. Has you erased from the memory of the nation. Gudrun had told them her story in short barks, but Iola had picked up the pieces.

Alistair shook his head. "She's tough, though. No complaining. Not a word."

"That is bad." Miach stated, "She has to get rid of it, like you get rid of poison, if you keep it inside you, it will kill you. Your approach is much healthier."

That almost made Alistair blush, and it certainly made him feel embarrassed about how he'd been handling the whole 'we are the last four wardens in Ferelden' thing.

"I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't- I should…"

Iola patted his back. "Well don't worry about that, at least you won't implode later in the middle of something important."

That actually made the other three chuckle.

"Well then, how about you two?" Alistair asked, "You haven't been exactly following your own advice."

Miach shrugged."I already grieved with my people. We had a funeral and said farwell to Tamlen. Dareth shiral. And my situation actually improved. I was going to die for sure. Now I'm a grey Warden and I may die."

"An improvement." Iola acknowledged. Alistair gave her a brief look. They had already discussed her problems at the Tower, and he didn't really want to push the subject any further, but Miach was curious, so he did asked the question.

"And you? How did you end up here? Just jumped into the Grey Warden boat? Were you bored?"

Iola started to rip small handfuls of grass from the ground. "At first, I thought about joining the army, like the other mages. I just wanted to get out of that tower, you know? It's not like we have many opportunities. So yes, I was kinda bored." She stopped her answer there, but Miach insisted

"You said you wanted to join the army, not the Wardens. I asked you about the wardens, not the army."

The mage shot a worried look at Alistair and then went back to her business with the grass before answering. "Well I- uh… I had a friend. A really good friend. He asked for help with something slightly forbidden and I obliged because the stupid bastard was in love, er, not with me obviously, and then well… turns out he was a blood mage, though I didn't know. So the templars didn't see a good friend helping a stupid bastard in love, they saw someone, why not another blood mage, helping a blood mage escape the Tower of the Circle. I guess I was lucky Duncan was there."

"So, Right of Conscription?"

"Hmpf. He didn't need to conscript me anyway, I would've followed him on my knees all the way to Ostagar, if that meant I could get out of there."

Miach leaned back, his arms crossed behind his head. "Templars". That was all he had to say about the story, apparently. Alistair, on the other hand, was struggling with a question. "And you didn't know this… friend of yours was a blood mage?"

"No. I didn't." Iola's answer was harsh. She wanted to put an end to that conversation before it turned into a questioning. The mage stood up. "I'm going to ask Morrigan about…" But the rest of the sentence, if it was even there, got lost in the fuss of her robes while she walked away.

Miach grinned. "How sensitive, Alistair. You could've just asked her if she was a blood mage."

"I didn't- It's not my fault if… Ahrg. I didn't accuse her or anything! I'm not even a templar!"

"I thought you said you were." The voice made them both wince. Gudrun had approached them, extremely silently for all the armor, and was now standing right behind Alistair.

"I said they trained me as one, I have some abilities, but I didn't take any vows, nor I belong to the Chantry in any way."

The dwarf just nodded and sat with them, slowly chewing some roasted bread. Alistair didn't dare to look at Gudrun, fearing she would notice they had been talking about her. The elf was staring at them, with that expression on his face that made him look like he didn't really care. He did care though, and it was obvious when he smiled again and told Alistair: "You should repeat that to Iola every time, and maybe she'll get used to it."

"I..."

Gudrun arched an eyebrow.

* * *

**Soooooo... I realize that there's pretty much nothing going on in this chapter, but I wanted to show you the wardens, their interactions and reactions, and I really wanted a chapter pre-Lothering. The pace is weird, I know, but at least you get to know Gudrun Miach and iola a little bit better. Also, I had that image of Alistair being not at all sensitive about blood magic xD**

**Originally, I was going to make this longer, but I'm going back for Christmas this weekend nd I won't have much time to write, so I wanted to update with something.**

**Thank you again for reading this! And thenk you to the sweet anon review!**

**Everything belongs to BioWare bla bla bla. Well not everything, not Gudrun's flawless sense of humour xDxD**


	8. Lothering

"Gorim!" The dog barked happily and Gudrun cackled. It was the first time they'd seen her laugh, and it was because of that stupid mabari. Iola and Miach stared at her in awe, amazed by the privilege of witnessing such thing. There had been a Gorim once that made Gudrun laugh almost every day. Of course they didn't know the whole story behind the name she had chosen for her new dog. It was the name of a man, a man from her old life, Gudrun said, a dear friend. "Gorim, where are you going?"

The mabari left them in the stairs of the Chantry in Lothering and ran across the bridge to stop in front of a huge iron cage that was hanging from a post. There was someone in that cage. The creature -Gudrun did not know what else to call it- was huge, taller than the tallest man she'd ever seen, and bigger too. His skin -His? Hers? Gudrun could not tell- was grey and his braided hair white. The eyes, surrounded by black circles, where a deep shade of violet.

"You are not one of my captors." He stated. His voice was deep and his tone even."I will not amuse you like the rest of the villagers, dwarf, leave me to my fate."

"What are you?" asked Miach, whose chin was practically touching the ground.

"I am Sten of the Beresaad, I am a qunari."

"And why are you there?" The elf asked without hesitation, without thinking, and without fear, victim of his curiosity.

"I've been caged here to pay for my crimes. Murder, it is."

"Oh. What did you do?"

"You ask many questions, boy."

"Was it that terrible, then?"

Tired of the insubstantial exchange of questions, Gudrun stepped forward, an idea forming on her mind. She'd looked at all her companions, and realized that there was something about all then that made them similar to her; they were exiles, they didn't belong.

"Do you not wish to seek atonement?" She asked.

"I do. That's why I'm here. I'm caged to pay for my crimes, left to starvation and death or darkspawn."

"There is more than one way to do so." She reasoned. "You could pay for those crimes doing something good. Saving some lives to pay for the one you took."

"What you say makes sense," The creature conceded, "but I doubt my captors see it the same way as you."

"Who are those captors?"

"The priests."

Gudrun scowled; those were hard nuts to crack, but one could always try, not that there was anything to lose.

"We'll come back." She promised, and started walking towards the bridge, followed by a very pleased Miach, an amused Morrigan, and the very much confused Alistair and Iola. Gorim barked happily.

"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" The former templar asked her, catching up with her.

"Probably."

"Really? I mean… the guy's a murderer, he admitted it."

Gudrun tapped her bottom lip, searching for an answer that would satisfy Alistair and herself. "He may be a killer, but he's not a murderer." She said, finally. "I know how a murderer looks like." The last words had the bitterness she'd forgotten since the dog's arrival.

"Is there even a difference?"

"A big one, Alistair, believe me. But enough, I need your help."

"My help?"

Before she could answer, Iola and Morrigan called her. "Gudrun, do you think we could go to the tavern?" Said the mage. "We've heard there's a man there who's willing to pay for some well crafted poisons and since we need the coin and Morrigan is so good with them, well, we thought we could go see him, see if it's worth the effort."

The dwarf nodded. It was a good idea, and anyway she needed to have a long chat with Alistair about priests and how to behave around them, nothing they couldn't do in front of a glass of beer.

... Or in front of a bunch of Loghain's soldiers. What's the difference, really. They confronted them as soon as they entered the tavern, and gave their speech about how the Grey Wardens betrayed the king. Gudrun was thankful they had encountered those bandits in the tevinter highway, -the ones that before being lynched told them that now Grey Warden's heads were on sale- or the shock of the news would probably act against them.

In that moment, those soldier's words were more frustrating that frightening, and Gudrun only wanted to kick their balls and back to their mothers. She wanted to tell them to fuck off, to go away and leave them alone.

"Really?" She was too tired to think of anything else.

"Gentlemen, surely there's no need for trouble." What was that? Someone coming to help them? _They're always in the last place you look, like in the Deep Roads, heh_. "These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge."

Gudrun recognized the clothes of the stranger, they were the uniform of the surface priests, but those soldiers didn't seem to respect the authority of this one, which wasn't a good thing, because Gudrun didn't have the patience to try and talk their way out of that. They threatened to kill the priestess and she heard Alistair gasp, completely outraged.

There was no way to stop the fight after that, but it turned out to be brief; Iola stunned half of the soldiers and Morrigan froze two of them within five seconds, the sister knew how to fight and the scandalized Alistair was a nightmare with the shield. Miach couldn't even stab one liver before Loghain's men surrendered. Killing them wouldn't be wise, though, too many people already knew how the Grey Wardens looked like, -a dwarf, an elf, two mages and a warrior was not a group easy to forget- and it would send the wrong message to the population. Gudrun was satisfied with the result; she'd kicked her balls and now they were running back to daddy. Now the only issue remaining was the fighting priest.

She was smiling; wide and brightly, she had beautiful red hair and a weird accent Gudrun did not recognized. "I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help."

"You fight well."

The sweet smile transformed into a smirk. "Well, I wasn't born in a cloister, you know?"

Gudrun turned to Alistair. "A cloister?"

"She means she's not always been a… sister? Is that what you are?"

"Indeed. I am Leliana, a lay sister in the chantry here in Lothering. And now if I may ask, is it Grey Wardens what you are?"

"Yes." Alistair answered before Gudrun could deny it. She snorted. The boy had to learn a couple of things about caution.

"Well, then you'll be fighting darkspawn, no? That's what Grey Wardens do. I know after what happened you need all the help you can get, that's why I'm coming along."

"What?"

"Eeer…"

"Ah- really?"

"I don't think…"

"Fantastic! More strangers joining the sinking boat!"

Gorim barked approvingly.

"Shut up." Gudrun centered again her attention in the sister. "Why in the name of the ancestors would you want to come with us?"

"The Maker told me to."

There was a silence, shared by all of them, and a slight pink blush adorned Leliana's cheeks.

"I… I know it sounds absolutely insane, but it's true! I had a dream. A vision!"

Alistair snorted. "More crazy? I thought we were all full up."

Miach, who had been smiling the whole time, clearly amused with the scene, frowned suddenly, his features showing disgust. "Are you going to turn this into your holy crusade? It is not for the Maker we're doing this, if you want us to sing your songs and hold hands to worship your god you can turn around now."

That made Leliana's blush deeper, and for a moment she stood there without words, trying to fill the silence while the others eyed her suspiciously. Gudrun showed some pity and broke it.

"Are you? Is that what you want?"

"Of course not!" She said, and she looked offended. "I only want to battle the darkspawn, for I believe that is the Maker's wish for me. I will follow you, and follow your lead, not try to usurp it, but my motives are my own, no doubt you all have your own personal motivations."

"Kinda." The dwarf conceded.

The confirmation emboldened the sister, and her eyes showed again the spark of hope and excitement. "I know this is the way I must follow, fighting all this… despair, and if you accept me, it is not really important if you don't believe me."

"You can fight."

"I can do more than that. I had a life before this, and I learned many… skills that can serve you well."

Alistair folded his arms. "Well… she kicked the balls of Loghain's men."

Iola was silent, thinking. This woman reminded her of Lily, in a way. Pious, but brave and resourceful and ready to sacrifice many things for what she loved. Only this one seemed smarter. It was true she didn't like initiates very much, but she was getting used to Alistair, and templars were a lot worse. "I say… w-why not? If she… promises to… shutupaboutthemaker."

"They can't help it, Iola." Miach insisted. "That's how this chantry people work."

"You like Alistair." Gudrun argued.

"Alistair is a Grey Warden." He answered, like the joining had washed all the sins of Alistair's previous life.

Gudrun took two seconds to consider the whole conversation and her companion's opinions. When she finally spoke up, she turned and addressed the mages. "Morrigan, Iola, go see the man you wanted to talk to. The idea was good, after all. Wait for us in the qunari's cage when you're finished. Miach, why don't you go with them? You're pretty good with herbs yourself. Sister, there's something I want to do, and I believe you can help me, if you can do this for me, I'll be glad to have you with us. Come, Alistair, we're going to the chantry. Gorim! Come on boy!"

* * *

With a movement of her arms, Iola froze the man that was approaching Leliana from behind to stab her. The sister nodded a thank you and kept on shooting arrows. The men they were fighting were inexperienced, but they were a lot, and it was hard to keep an eye on all of them. Having Sten and Leliana on their side proved to be a huge advantage though. Considering his size, Gudrun had given the giant her own battleaxe and now she was using a shield, fighting side by side with Alistair, something they seemed to be getting used to very easily. Sten was, as Gudrun had stated, a killer, but also a soldier and a trained warrior. Even without an armour and barely some bread and water in his stomach, he swung his weapon with such strength, the fear could be read in the faces of his opponents, who didn't last long.

"I am weak." He said, once the last one in the group that had attacked them had fallen. "These people were villagers and I feel tired after this."

"It's only natural." Miach said. "You've been caged for too long." He seemed to like the qunari.

"Why would these people even think attacking us was a good idea? They must've been blind." Morrigan said, looking at the corpses with a mixture of disgust and condescension.

"They were hungry and desperate." Leliana said, little wrinkles appearing in her forehead.

Iola was staring at the corpses, torn between horror and her own reasoning. "I don't understand…" She muttered. "Morrigan is right, why would even think of attacking someone like Gudrun, or Alistair, or… Sten?! It's not… it doesn't make any sense… They must've really been desperate…" She didn't know if it was compassion or actual confusion what was making say those words. After all, she'd never known real hunger at the Tower, and even the privations of the last few days had been bearable.

Alistair approached her. "Are you alright?"

Iola shrunk a bit again. "No… but yes. I guess… I guess I am."

"I understand you, this is-" He trailed off suddenly and lifted his head, his eyes searched their surroundings and finally stopped, looking at some point of the nearby tevinter highway. "Darkspawn."

"How far?" Gudrun asked.

"Right there, they're… getting closer."

"How many?"

"A small group."

They all sighed with relief, maybe even Sten.

"Let's move then."

The group moved forward, to the highway and away from the village. It wasn't long before they could hear the screams.

"Sten, you have nothing to protect yourself with, please be careful." Gudrun warned the quinari, before launching herself into the battle, accompanied by Alistair, Miach and the mabari. A couple of genlocks greeted them, smiling with their crooked yellow teeth. Alistar hit one of them with his shield and Gorim attacked the other, leaving Gudrun and Miach space to press forward. They hadn't come too late; there was already too people dead in the stony floor, but a couple of dwarves had managed to survive until then protected by a cart and lots of piled boxes.

Up there, six more of the monsters were waiting; one of them was an alpha. The creature sent two of his minions before him, but the two genlocks ran past Gudrun and Miach and attacked the mages. Beofre the warriors could react, the bigger ones were already attacking them, preventing them from helping their companions.

Gudrun heard saw a flash of purple light behind her and smelled burnt flesh; the witches knew how to take care of themselves. She hadn't time to think though, a dark blade appeared in her range of vision and she covered her head with the shield just in time. "Miach!" The little elf jumped from her flank to the hurlock's and stabbed it in the neck.

Meanwhile, the alpha was attacking Alistair, following the instincts that told him he was the oldest and most powerful warden. The ex templar raised his shield, waiting for the attack, but it didn't came. Instead, he felt the pommel of the axe in his thing, and lost balance. It was in that moment when Gudrun turned around to watch the beast swing his weapon, ready to smash Alistair's skull. "Miach!" She screamed again, hoping he could be faster than her, hoping Alistair would recover on time and then, the alpha just stopped; his figure froze, unable to move, the ground below it was glowing blue. Alistair seized the opportunity and before any of then could do anything else, he chopped off the alpha's head. Gudrun looked around; it was over.

Sten's arms, chest and legs were all covered in several cuts and bruises, but the rest of them seemed alright. "Iola, could you help Sten?"

The mage nodded. She was kneeling on the floor, trying to catch some breath. "You're not dying, Sten, are you?"

"I am fine, bas."

"Great… I'll be with you… in a minute…"

From behind the cart, two small, frightened, but clearly relieved figures approached the strange group. Two dwarves, as Gudrun had guessed, one looked very young, the other mature. Surfacers, probably.

"Ah… I have no words to thank you for your timely rescue." The older one began. "We will no doubt de dead if not for you and your friends, dear lady."

Gudrun nodded in acknowledgement.

"It was our pleasure." Miach said.

* * *

"You saved my life."

Iola looked up at Alistair, he looked somewhat uncomfortable.

"You sound surprised." She said, fighting against her instincts and straightening up.

"I'm not. I mean… I know what you're going to say; that we are all Grey Wardens and we have to watch each other's backs to survive, but I wanted to thank you anyway, because I know it's hard for you… you've never had to deal with this kind of… situations and… you're doing well."

"Are you trying to say that you're impressed that I can handle myself?"

"Oh, no! I mean... of course you can handle yourself, but what I meant is that... I didn't think you, you know, with the shock... ah..."

"It's alright, Alistair, I am surprised myself." Iola flashed a weak smile and then grew serious again. "You protected me in the tower of Ishal."

"Well, of course, we were companions and-"

"No, I don't mean that. I mean at the top of the tower. After the darkspawn broke in. Miach told me that even after they hit me with three arrows you tried to protect me, and even Miach thought I was dead."

Alistair blushed slightly and then laughed nervously. "As if Miach had time to see anything with the whole falling-unconscious-in-the-floor thing."

"So it is not true?"

The blush turned darker. "I… didn't think about it in that moment, I just…"

"Thank you. I'd be dead for sure if you hadn't done that. I don't think even Flemeth could save me if you hadn't."

A silence fell between them, and for a while they listened to the tired steps of their companions.

"You didn't look dead to me." He said eventually.

She chuckled. "Thank the Maker."

"I'm sorry about what I said this morning."

"What are you...? Ah, about Jowan, is it?"

"Yes."

"Are you? Really?"

"I am."

"It's already forgotten then, don't worry about that."

Alistair wanted to say something else about his templar training, he wanted to tell her he understood when she sometimes reacted strangely, he wanted to assure her he wasn't there to judge and that in fact she was probably the nicest mage he'd ever met, but he didn't. He shut up and offered and grateful smile.

* * *

**Wooo! At last! This chapter was hard to write; Leliana's first scene was particulary complicated, and I'm hopeless with battle scenes. However, I'm pretty satisfied with how everything worked out, I hope you think the same hahaha. **

**Also, the last scene is something of a dessert, a tiny bit of chocolate after the main course, I hope you like it.**

**Special thanks to FalconHawk for all the help.**

**And finally; everything belongs to BioWare, master of Dragon Age universe.**


	9. Men we knew

When the sun fell and Miach started to ignore his comrades so he could look at the stars in peace, when Iola started to trip on/over hidden roots and stones, when Alistair's yawns became too loud to ignore, Morrigan suggested stopping and making camp.

She took Miach with her to scout the surroundings while the others waited in the road. When their figures disappeared behind the trees and the dark light of the dying sun hid them completely, Morrigan gave Miach a smile; "Do not run." She told him, her eyes glowing, and she shifted into a dog. A slim grey dog looked at the elf with Morrigan's golden eyes, it could be smiling.

Miach winced. He chuckled nervously, and ran a hand through his dark hair. His laugh blocked fear and helped him manage his nerves; the fear and nerves of watching for the first time a legend become true. The legendary powers of the Korcari witches were real and Morrigan had just performed for him. Just for him. He laughed again.

"The wilds have made you resourceful, daughter of Flemeth." He said. "Let's take a look at this place, shall we?"

The dog barked. Miach smirked.

Their silent pace didn't disturb the forest much, Birds flew away from the possible hunters, but it was natural like the rabbit that runs away from the wolf. Morrigan disappeared now and then into the darkness and when came back to Miach's side and he smiled, every time with less nerves and more fondness. Finally, Morrigan shifted into her natural self again and they walked back to the place where their companions were waiting.

"Morrigan." Miach called, stopping.

"What?" She stopped aswell, but only turned her head slightly to look at him.

"Is that meant to be a secret? What you can do."

"It will be known. My abilities are to be used when needed; whether scouting the wilds or fighting darkspawn, but I would appreciate it if you didn't share this information you now posses with the others. I would like to see their faces the first time I do it in front of them. Tis my right, don't you think?"

"Ma nuvennin, Morrigan."

She smirked, knowing the meaning of those words.

* * *

"How much do we have?"

Alistair had been counting their money, frowning in front of the fire. It was like there was a contest going on between him and Gudrun to see who could imprint the wrinkles in their face permanently first. Next to them, lying in the ground, Iola and Miach looked at the stars; she listened carefully to the dalish stories and legends, and Miach was pleased to have such an interested audience. Alistair sighed and looked back at Gudrun again.

"After buying food and the tents and the armour, even with the money we got there uh… four sovereigns, seventy six silvers and fifty eight coppers."

Iola jerked up her head. "Is that a lot?" She knew how money worked, of course, but she didn't really know how to measure its value. What was a lot of money to have? Well she guessed that whatever they had it was not enough. Because with money it was never enough, was it?

Alistair shook his head. "We cannot pay an army with this, if that's what you're asking."

"Ha ha, I figured that much by myself."

Miach laughed. "Why do we need all that money, anyway? I can hunt so we have food, and the lighter our packs are, the faster we will be in our journey."

Alistair sighed again and stared at the fire. They were just the four of them in that moment, the wardens. Well, there was Gorim, dutifully protecting his mistress, and Sten was not far away from the fire either, but he was minding his own business –if staring at the horizon could be considered a business-. Morrigan had already stated that she preferred to have her privacy, and Leliana had retired to her tent soon after dinner. Alistair had seen how Miach looked at her, with suspicion and deep distrust, and he could feel her discomfort. He guessed that until the elf gave his approval, she'd be avoiding him. But Miach was a nice fellow; surely it wouldn't take long, would it?

He remembered the day they had met. Iola didn't know he had almost been a templar then, and he had been stupid enough not to recognize her mage robes, even if Duncan had sent him a letter telling him one of the new recruits was a mage. Duncan. Alistair sighed again.

It must've been a particularly long and deep sigh because he felt a hand tapping his shoulder short after that. It was Miach. The elf and the mage were sitting now, and he had an arm around Iola's shoulders. Alistair allowed himself a couple of seconds to think about it before centering his attention in what Miach was saying.

"I've been thinking, well, we've been thinking… I was telling Iola the story of Falon'Din and we started to talk about the Wardens and then we thought that you may want to talk about them too. After all, they meant a lot more to you than to us. You know, Duncan and… the others." And with the last word, his gaze drifted in Gudrun's direction just for a moment.

_"__Marek…"_

_"__Go! Now! It's an order, lady Aeducan!"_

Alistair dismissed their concerns with an unsecure gesture. "You don't have to do this, you know? I know you didn't know him as well as I did."

Iola leaned closer. "That doesn't mean we didn't care about him, or the others, for that matter. Duncan saved my life, and for what you told us, he kind of saved yours too."

"Yes… he did. He was the first person to ever care for what I wanted. The Grey Wardens were my family, and Duncan was…" He trailed off, somewhat ashamed of what he had to say.

Iola understood him though, in that moment she figured she understood him better than the other two. In a way, their lives hadn't been so different. She reached a hand and squeezed his forearm. "He was like a father to you."

Alistair looked up at her in awe.

"I… I know how it feels, believe me." The Tower of the Circle might've been a prison, but all her family, her foster family, was caged with her. Her friends and teachers, First Enchanter Irving…

"He was good man." Gudrun said. She was blinking really fast. "They all were."

"Yes he was." Alistair nodded. He hadn't noticed the expression in Gudrun's face.

"And he was very handsome too." Iola said, trying to lift the mood somehow. It worked. Alistair's face went from sad to curious.

"I uh… I never thought about it. What does that have to do with anything?"

Iola offered them a mischievous smile. "He was. I would've totally bedded him, if I had had the opportunity."

"What?!"

Alistair turned red, Miach smiled openly and even Gudrun's features relaxed, leaving space in her face for a small smirk.

"Of course, he was too honorable for that. Too old for me, he said." Iola joked, emboldened by her companion's reactions.

At that point, Miach burst into laughter, and Alistair was staring at her in disbelief, his jaw brushing the floor.

"You- you asked him…?"

Gudrun chuckled, that was too amusing to miss a single word or stop looking at Alistair's startled expression. Of course she had been with Duncan since before they recruited Iola, and no conversation of that kind had taken place as far as she knew, but who was her deny that story?

"Well, you know he was a remarkable fighter, it was reasonable to think that his performance in other…"

"Lalalalalala I'm not listening!"

Miach was already rolling on the floor, out of breath. "She wanted to bed your father!" He cackled.

Iola could not resist any longer and she gave in to laughter too. Gorim howled in amusement and Gudrun followed him, laughing with her comrades. Her laugh was deep and loud and contagious. Iola stared at her, smiling, happy that she'd succeeded in making them laugh.

"Oh very funny." Alistair complained, his face was still all red and flustered, but watching them, he couldn't help a smile himself.

"If the wardens keep making so much noise, they will attract the darkspawn." Sten growled from a distance, waking them up from that wonderful spell.

"You are quite right, Sten, you tell them." Alistair said, still chuckling.

They finally calmed down and their breaths were swallowed by the cracking of the fire.

"Tell us about him." Iola asked eventually. "Tell us about the others too."

"Well, Duncan was from Highever, or so he claimed. You know, when this is all over, if-" He stopped himself before adding 'if we survive' "When this is all over, I'd like to go there, have a proper funeral for him, for all the wardens, but specially for him."

Gudrun nodded in approval. "That would be appropriate." And then, surprising everyone; "We could all go together."

"W-would you?"

"Sure."

"And why not?"

Alistair looked at his companions, one by one, and felt a knot forming in his throat. He thanked the Maker or Flemeth or whoever was listening every day for sparing their lives, and now he knew, each and every one of them, with their faults and virtues, were good people.

"I know the dwarven tradition, but I'm curious Miach, what do your people do with your dead?"

Miach sat up, resting an arm in his knee. "We bury them and plant a tree on top."

"That's… beautiful. Life growing from death."

Iola raised her eyebrows; she didn't expect Alistair to be so… poetic. It was a nice feature.

Miach sighed and shook his head, suddenly serious. "We didn't have a body when Tamlen was buried, but we had a funeral anyway, and I planted the tree myself. But he's not there, I failed him, I couldn't even find the body…"

Iola passed an arm around the elf's shoulders. "Don't torture yourself, Miach, you did all you could."

"Have you ever lost anyone close to you, Iola?"

She bit her lip. "Well… my family could be dead for all I know. They weren't when I was sent away, but I never saw them again, for me it was losing them." She explained. "And… a dear friend… at her Harrowing." Alistair shivered with the memory of his only Harrowing.

"What is a Harrowing?" Gudrun asked.

"It's a test all mages face. We… it's supposed to be a secret but… we are tested to see if we can resist a demon, if we can resist possession."

The dwarf frowned, and Miach gasped. "They do that to mages? They did that… to you?"

Iola nodded. "I had just passed mine when I met Duncan and Gudrun. It was… well, harrowing." It wasn't exactly meant to be a joke, and so none of them laughed.

"I attended one once." Alistair muttered finally. "The girl they were testing she… didn't make it. It was horrible, that's when I really realized I didn't want to be a templar."

Iola bit her lip. A part of her admired Alistair for those words; for resisting and not giving in to the notion that all mages were monsters, even if he still felt slightly uncomfortable around them. That part of her remembered that he'd been nice to her, that he had protected her more than once, that he was good natured and too funny to be a templar. The other part of her, the part that had been hit by steel gauntlets, smite and once even… even almost… that part urged her to stay alert, just in case. It was hard though, to stay alert, it was particulary hard when he smiled like he'd never met the cruelty of the Chantry.

"I'm glad that Duncan took me out of there; even if it means fighting darkspawn, and being hungrier than I've ever been, and having those dreams…"

Then, suddenly, Alistair laughed nervously.

The three of them looked up at him again, Gudrun frowning, smelling the secret.

"What is it?"

Alistair ran a hand across his face, knowing he couldn't postpone that conversation any longer. "Well… there's something more about being a Grey Warden…"

Gudrun stamped her foot. "Spit it out already!"

"Well… you know the part of swallowing darkspawn blood, and you know that we are immune to the Taint. The thing is… that we are immune, because we are tainted, and eventually we will… die."

Their faces paled; Iola stopped breathing, Miach chuckled and Gudrun gritted her teeth.

"How much?" She asked.

"Ah…"

"How much, Alistair?!"

The former templar took a deep breath. "Thirty years. Take or leave it." He decided to leave it there for the night; more details about the Calling could be discussed later.

They were surprised by Miach's nervous laugh. "I knew it!" The dalish exclaimed. "I knew there was something really fucked up! How else could I be cured?! I'm not cured. I'll just die slowly!" His laugh stopped as abruptly as it started, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I got thirty years extra… it's not that bad… I guess…"

Iola was trying to think calmly, to reason with herself. _Logic, Iola. You could be dead, you could be in Aeonar, you could be living as a tranquil. Is this so bad? Thirty years is… you won't have to worry about the constant pain in the bones Wynne talked about…_ Thirty years was more that she would've gotten if she had stayed at the Tower with Gregoir and Jowan's burdens on her shoulders.

"Why didn't tell us this until now?" The Wardens protected their secrets too fiercely, it seemed.

"I didn't realize you didn't know until now." He sounded sincere. "I never thought about it but now I see… ah… Duncan never had the time to tell you after the Joining."

Gudrun punched her own leg and growled. "It's enough. It's enough. Thirty years is more than enough, it is…I'll let a bronto fuck your corpse, Bhelen!" Gorim howled and started licking her face.

Sten complained again about the noise. That was the end of the conversation.

"I am sorry…"

"Leave it, Alistair. Knwoing this now or three days ago, it doesn't make a difference to us, and while Duncan lived it was not your place to share this."

The silence that followed was long and thick, and Alistair was already wondering when his companions would talk to him again when they heard a very characteristic sound coming from the road, breaking the peace of the night. Well, two sounds.

_Clip clop clip clop._

_Eeeek eeeek._

_Clip clop clip clop_

_Crrrrr eeeek._

"Someone's coming."

"What's that sound?" Gudrun asked, she wasn't used to horses yet.

Miach pressed a finger against his lips. A couple of voices were audible now, they seemed to be engaged in some kind of friendly chat. The elf crept away from the fire and towards the road, only a shadow among many others.

"I must say without you I would probably be still lost in that crossroad, master Feddic. These people sure are hard to find."

"Don't even mention it, sir. It was our pleasure, you've been a most entertaining companion. Wasn't he, boy?"

"Companion!"

"To be honest with you, sir, this wasn't my plan at first; my boy and I were going to carry on with our travels on our own, but at some point we caught up with the group and I told myself I would be a fool if I let pass the opportunity of being well protected."

"The roads are dangerous these days for merchants, I can tell, but one must take the risk."

"Well spoken, master Dryden! Very well spoken."

"Stop right there!" The silhouette abandoned the shadows and became Miach. His eyes widened when he recognized the two dwarves.

"Nice elf!" Said the youngest one. "Pretty drawings." He was probably referring to the vallaslin.

"Sandal? Bodahn? What are you doing here?"

Bodahn pulled the reins, the mules stopped and the cart made one last weird noise before staying still. "Ah Warden! There you are! Shall I assume your friends are nearby? He said, cheerfully.

"Have you been following us? And who's this man with you?"

"Following you? Not at all. Not at first, at least. And this is Levi Dryden, he's been looking for you, wardens."

Miach raised an eyebrow. They had met Bodahn and Sandal and they seemed good people, he could not judge this Levi Dryden though, but he knew Gudrun and Iola would get angry if he just kicked him out. "Alas… Come with me."

"Pretty drawings!"

* * *

"And you say Duncan promised to help you find this… Soldier's Place?"

"Soldier's Peak."

"Whatever."

"And yes, he promised. I came with the Wardens when Maric allowed them to come back. We always talked about recovering the old fortress of the Grey, and well, now he's not… with us anymore, I thought you may help me."

Gudrun raised an eyebrow. Levi's talk about regaining his family honour was starting to get to her nerves, but she had to admit having a safe place for the Wardens, a fortress where they could stand, was a good idea.

"Very well, Levi, we will help you."

"Oh thank you, my lady!" The blond man cheered. He searched in his bag and pulled out n old map. "Here, have this one, I have more. The location of fortress is already marked. I'll be in Denerim, making my business, when you're ready meet me there."

The dwarf nodded and behind her, Alistair nodded aswell. "Speaking of which… we haven't decided where to go yet." He said.

"You're right… good night, Dryden." She said, the man bid them good night as they turned around and walked towards the fire. Iola and Miach joined them after their merry chat with Bodahn and Sandal. They both carried something in their hands. "I'll be back in a minute." Miach said, and ran towards where Morrigan had her little private camp.

"What do you have there?" Alistair asked. Iola grinned.

"We got something for you." She said, biting her lip with excitement. Now she was close, Gudrun could see what she was carrying. It was a doll, well, something similar to a doll, a puppet, maybe, and there was something else clutched inside her left hand. The fire threw some light over the objects and showed that the doll was characterized as a Grey Warden, with the gryphon painted in its tiny chest and all.

"Is that… a Grey Warden doll?"

"Yes! And it is for you." Iola answered, handing the puppet to Alistair, who stared at the toy in awe for a few seconds. His gaze went from the object to Iola and from her to the dolla few times before he could articulate a sound. "This… for me? Wow! You thought…? Wow!"

"Miach saw it and… I thought you might like it, were we right?"

"Hah! It's been a long time since I last had a toy! Thank you! Really!"

Iola turned her smiling face from the templar to the dwarf, and she offered her her closed hand. "We got something for you too, don't worry."

She opened her palm and Gudrun saw the dancing fire reflected in the edges of a beautiful… ruby? No no, it was not a ruby, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

"It's only glass." The mage explained, a bit unsecure. "But it's pretty isn't it? I mean, what does make rubies so special anyway? Oh I know I know, me displaying my typical human ignorance. Anyway, Bodahn said it was somewhat of a lucky charm, I know it's not exactly useful but I hope you like it."

Gudrun grabbed the little stone and examined it. It was only red glass, but there was something very special about it, something that had probably more to do with the fact that Iola and Miach and bought it for her than with the gift itself.

"Thank you, Iola. I like it."

When Miach came back to them trotting, still chuckling at Morrigan's reaction to the 'cursing doll' he encountered a curious scene. Alistair was playing with his puppet, and now and then he glanced in Iola's direction, smiling. Gudrun was -Creators be praised- blushing, and Iola seemed very pleased with herself. She winked at him.

"Heeeeello."

Gudrun recovered from the surprise as soon as she heard his voice and the blush disappeared to leave some space for the 'business'. "Well, now you're here, I think we can start discussing where do we want to go first. I'm talking about the treaties."

Miach was the first to voice his opinion, and he did it with a shadow crossing his forehead. "My clan was already preparing for the journey north when I left with you and Duncan. At this point, finding them will be impossible, but other clans will remain in that area for some time. I would hurry, nonetheless."

Iola shook her head. "If you don't mind, I'd like to leave some time to Knight-Commander Gregoir to forgive me before going back, let the mood settle and all that stuff."

"I think we should go to Redcliff first." Alistair said then, surprising them. "I know it's not in the treaties, but we could use arl Eamon's help against the Blight and against Loghain. Remember that it was him who betrayed the king and the Grey Wardens at Ostagar." His brow furrowed with those last words, the recent wound coming back to life again in his memories. "He was Cailan's uncle and a good man, he will not stand Loghain's treachery."

Gudrun nodded. That was a fair point, and, like Iola, she wasn't particularly fond of the idea of returning to Orzammar just yet, she wanted to see her father, true, but lots of other reasons were holding her back. She needed to think about it.

"You know, that's a sound idea. Loghain is hunting us down, we can't count him among our allies, and you said he was a powerful general here in the surface." Alistair nodded. "We need other noble topsiders on our side, and if you say this arl Eemawn is powerful…"

"Arl Eamon."

"Whatever. If you say this person is powerful, and that you know him, you said you knew him?" Alistair nodded again. "Well, he could be of great help."

Miach was stroking his chin. "You know, Gudrun? You're talking a lot lately."

She raised her eyebrows. "You all seem to expect me to say something."

The elf chuckled. "Our leader must not disappoint us."

Gudrun didn't answer. She had recognized the sensation, the familiar weight on her shoulders, the feeling of being needed and followed. She had toyed with it in the past, but now it was serious. She recognized the weight of leadership, which settled on her shoulders in that moment.

Alistair did her a favour and summarized he conversation. "So, we're going to Redcliff first…" He waited for a confirmation and Gudrun nodded. "And then we have the Brecilian Forest, Orzammar and the Tower of the Circle… bah, too easy." Miach chuckled.

Iola was pinching her bottom lip, her eyes looking at some point between Gudrun's head and the sky. "You know? I realized something; we're all coming back home, the four of us, to the people we knew."

* * *

**And heeeeeeeeere's the new chapter! I know what you're thinking: so soon! So fast! Wow! **

**Impressed? No? Oh well, enjoy it anyway. There's a lot of talking and no action in this chapter, many things are discussed, but nothing is done, so here's more character development. **

**For Suggestions, ideas, spelling and grammar corrections, saying hi etc etc leave a review please! They will be very much appreciated.**

**Dragon Age stuff is in chains. The chains belong to BioWare. Ergo, Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.**


	10. Alistair Theirin

Teagan Guerrin was about 23 years old when Eamon decided to send Alistair away. The ex templar remembered now, now he was back in Redcliffe, he remembered the conversation –or argument- the two brothers had that day. He never thought much about it, and certainly at the time he was too swollen by his own rage to even pay attention to it. But now, with the perspective of years and adulthood, he remembered. Teagan didn't want to send him away to the Chantry, but at the time Isolde's wishes weighed more that Teagan's in the household.

Teagan would be around 35 five now, Alistair thought, and Eamon more than 40. He hadn't seen them in ten years. Alistair wondered if they would recognize him, specially Teagan, he hoped Teagan would. He had looked after Alistair for many years, played with him when he was little more than a toddler, sneaked cheese from the kitchen for him and finally became the last bulwark of resistance when they decided to send him away to the Chantry.

Alistair kicked a stone and it rolled down the road. It felt like the years that had passed.

* * *

_The boy slipped on the slime that covered the wood of the docks and fell backwards, causing his companion to chuckle a bit before helping him up._

_"__Oi Spark, stop it already, it hurt."_

_The elven girl pulled out a cloth from her belt and wiped the boy's naked back from the green dirt. "You're fine, Alistair, it's just a bit of mud. Besides, you're all grown up, aren't you, little warrior?"_

_The boy scowled. "You don't need to call me that, I'm not a baby anymore, you know?"_

_She laughed. "No, you're right, eight years old today, nearly a man!"_

_"__Spark! You're laughing at me!" His brow furrowed and the elven girl pulled him closer and kissed the boy's cheek. He blushed._

_"__Happy birthday, Alistair." She kissed him again. "Come on now, let's not waste your gift, time flies!" They resumed they race to the docks, ready for a bath. Spark, the young elven servant had little time to waste, she had work to do at the castle, but she'd managed to sneak out to spend some quality time with the other orphan there. Little Alistair had very few friends, and even if she was 8 years older, she liked spending time with him; Alistair was a nice boy, good, funny and brave, and their lives weren't so different, after all. Spark wasn't her real name, everybody just called her that, because she laughed a lot, they said; she was the daughter of a servant and had been serving in the castle since she could hold a vroom. She had no father, and her mother had passed away a few years ago. She'd been Alistair's foster sister since he was only a baby, and the only gift she could offer him was time together and games. A bath in lake Calenhad… and some fine cheese, of course._

_Alistair swam away from the docks and dived into the deep waters until he touched the black bottom with his hand and grabbed a handful of little rocks. He broke the surface of the water and swam towards Spark._

_"__Spark! Spark! Is there something good in here?"_

_"__Uhmm… let me see… oh sorry Alistair, no coins, but I can see… oh!"_

_"__What is it? What is it?!" The boy paddled in the water and nearly sank with excitement before rising again and pulling himself up to the wooden dock. "What is it, Spark?"_

_She smiled. "It's the head of an arrow. See? Pure steel." Alistair grabbed the tiny piece of weaponry and examined it. "It's a sign."_

_"__A sign?"_

_Spark winked an eye. "Of your future, your destiny. The blessing of Andruil."_

_"__Alistair! Spark!"_

_The sudden appearance of the third voice made Alistair wince and he dropped the head of the arrow, which fell into the water again. "No!" The boy didn't think twice before jumping again into the water._

_"__Alistair!" Teagan called._

_"__My lord Teagan!"_

_"__Spark, what is he doing?"_

_"__Oh, my lord. He found the head of an arrow, and it fell again." They figured the young boy would come out of the water soon, but it took longer than expected, and when he did, Teagan was already out of his boots._

_"__Alistair! What do you think you're doing?" He demanded._

_"__The arrow! The arrow! The sign of Andruil."_

_"__What is he talking about?"_

_Spark turned red. "I… I told him that…" The lad was already down water again before he could hear the end of the sentence. It took him even longer to rise to the surface this time, and he did it only to breathe fresh air before diving again._

_"__Alistair, what…?_

_Seconds passed, and minutes, and there was no sign of Alistair. Spark and Teagan both got rid of their shoes and launched themselves into the darkness of the lake. They met Alistair there and brought him up again. Teagan was furious, and Alistair's eyes were red. There was water in his cheeks, both salted and fresh._

_"__Maker's breath, Alistair! What in the Fade were you doing?" He grabbed the child's arm, his voice was tainted with anger and fear. The boy had his eyes closed and his lips pursed._

_"__I found… I found…"_

_"__Please, lord Teagan, don't punish him, it was my fault." Spark leaned forward and held the boy against her chest. Teagan sighed._

_"__How can it be your fault, Spark?" He said, his features softening, looking down at the elven girl. He noticed how the wet clothing clung to her body and blushed a bit._

_She was still hugging Alistair when she answered. "He found the head of the arrow in the bottom of the lake, and I told him it was a sign of Andruil." A calm settled them between them, only broke by Alistair's muffled sobs. Teagan sighed again._

_"__Andruil?" He asked, genuinely interested. He arched an eyebrow._

_"__It's a dalish goddess, my lord. There were these tales my mother told me… I know I shouldn't have said anything…"_

_"__It's alright. It's alright." Teagan was barely 21 and willing to please every young woman around him, human or elven, especially if they were pretty and smart like Spark. Besides, Alistair didn't deserve all that yelling for being just a little bit reckless. "Come on now, I was looking for you two, and now we all need to get changed. Don't mention this to my brother, Spark, you know how he is, he'll get all hysterical over nothing."_

_"__Just like us, mylord." She said with a smirk, and that made Alistair snort._

_Teagan blushed again. "Yes, just like us."_

_That night, Spark invited Alistair to the kitchen and with the special permission of lord Teagan he was able to eat until he thought he would explode. Spark made a cake with sweet oranges and they ate it drowning the pieces in milk. After a while, the two of them and the cook heard a soft knock on the door. Then, Teagan Guerrin came in. He had something clutched in his hand. He dropped an object on the table, and they all saw it was the head of an arrow. Pure steel._

_"__I am sorry you lost yours, Alistair, so I asked Owen if he might have some to spare. If it's a sign of… well, that goddess, I'm sure it will bring you luck."_

_The young boy took the tiny piece of metal between his fingers and looked at it intently. He was pleased, but somewhat disappointed. "Thank you, Teagan." He managed finally, but it didn't feel right. It was a nice gift and all, but that wasn't the sign, it wasn't his treasure from the bottom of the lake. It wouldn't work the same way. He had a weird feeling about that. Spark had said that it didn't matter the treasure was lost, for the sign was still there, even if he didn't have it with him anymore, but Alistair knew, somewhere in the bottom of his soul, that it just wouldn't be the same. Nevertheless, he accepted Teagan's gift and for some time he carried it around everywhere, two years, until Eamon told him he was going to be sent away to be a templar and Alistair finally admitted to himself that the new arrow head that Teagan had given to him wasn't bringing him any luck._

* * *

Alistair sighed, trying not to slip on the gravel. Spark was right in the end; the sign had been seen, and now that uncertain destiny was starting to become true. Not the way he'd planned. And now he was coming back to Redcliffe and his past was going to be there waiting for him, the truth wouldn't hide much longer, he thought. He'd told the other wardens about the Calling, and now the time had come to confess the last big secret. _Oh Gudrunis going to kill me…_

He stopped walking abruptly, kicking some dust that made Iola sneeze.

"What is it?" She asked him. Alistair pursed his lips and let out a nervous chuckle. He looked at her and then at Gudrun and Miach that had already stopped.

"Can I talk with you three for a second? Iiiinnn… private?"

Gudrun arched an eyebrow but nodded, and the four wardens walked towards the bushes that decorated the side of the road. Alistair gave a long, deep, melancholic sigh before starting his speech. They were getting used to his sighs.

* * *

Gudrun, Iola and Miach stared at Alistair for a few seconds, and then the bomb exploded.

"I can't believe I've been so stupid!" Iola was the first to react. "It's been there all the time! I can't believe I haven't seen it, you look so much like Cailan! So so much! It was obvious! Maker's breath how can I be so stupid! And I call myself a mage of the Circle? A fly in the soup of a templar, that's what I am! Look at him they're almost twins!" She said at no one in particular. Well, 'twins' was a bit of an exaggeration, Alistair thought. They may have had similar features but 'twins' was stretching the reality a bit too much. Iola continued his rant and he winced when she slapped her forehead.

Miach cracked up a smile. "So, you're not just a bastard, but a royal bastard."

Well that reaction was better, much more natural. "Heh, I could use that line." The elf was looking at him sympathetically, and somehow Alisair felt comforted. He knew Miach didn't really care about the human politics. It meant nothing to him that Alistair was the son of a king, an arl or a priest; if anything, it gave the elf ammunition to play some jokes on the templar.

Then Alistair turned his gaze towards Gudrun. The dwarf hadn't said anything yet, she was just staring at him, doing a lot of staring, actually. While Iola's mind was spinning with the new information, Alistair could feel Gudrun's brain building conclusions like castles, exploring all the possibilities, maybe more than the ones he had already thought of himself. Well, she had experience with all that, she had grown up in a palace. **She knew**.

"I see. We'll talk later." The dwarf finally said. Two sentences that made Alistair shiver. It wasn't going to be a good chat, he was sure of that. What was he expecting from a princess, really? _Alistair Theirin, you idiot_. Gudrun patted his arm before turning around and Alistair swallowed hard.

Miach cast one last sympathetic look at him before following her, as if he knew she would skin Alistair alive as soon as she had some time. His reaction felt good, in a way, and bad at the same time. It comforted him that they didn't really seem affected by the news, but in the other hand, that was his greatest and most painful secret and it took a lot of strength to confess it to them to have Gudrun and Miach just… walk away.

"… and all this time I just assumed that your father was the arl but you didn't want to believe it!" Iola was still going on. Until she realized they were alone.

"Oh… I'm sorry about that. I know… this must be hard for you, and here I am talking about myself. Forgive me for the selfish rant, please."

Alistair shrugged, or more likely, he tried to make his head disappear between his shoulders. "It's ok… I wasn't expecting that reaction. Well, any of them."

Iola noticed he looked a little worried. "Oh don't worry about those two. It's not like Maric meant a lot to them after all, their people have their own worlds. I bet Gudrun has enough with _one_ royal family." She raised her eyebrows. Gudrun…

Alistair even smiled. "And what about you? What do you… think?"

"Well… It has the potential to make things complicated." Really complicated, in fact, painfully complicated, but she wasn't about to tell him that right then. "But for now… I guess… it doesn't change who you are, does it? Our fellow grey warden…" She bit her lip, her eyes widening with a sudden realization. "And our friend".

Oh? Friend? He wasn't expecting that either, but he was glad she said that. He had bagun considering them friends not long after Ostagar and he was glad Iola, the person who had the biggest number of reasons to hate him, said she considered him a friend. It was so… reassuring. "You know, it's just… I hate how it has shaped my entire life. People treat me differently after they discover the truth. I am the bastard prince instead of just Alistair…"

Iola listened and nodded, and filed that information for later, when she would think more carefully about the consequences. The matter in that moment was not the blood but the secret itself, and how Alistair had finally trusted it to them. "… I guess I just wanted you to like me for who I am. I am sorry."

She gave reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder. "I understand, Alistair. Really."

"Thank you. You're really… understanding? Hehe If that makes any sense."

Iola shook her head and put an arm around his shoulders. "Now come on, my prince. We must get back to the others before they send a search party!" She said playfully as she dragged him down the road. It was Cailian's joke. She remembered it. Ha! Curious.

"Iola? Were Cailan and I really so similar?"

"Nah, you're better looking." She cackled and it made him smile.

* * *

Bann Teagan Guerrin was now 35 years old, he had his own land and no wife, and he still professed an undying love for his hometown. The proof was that he was there with the people of Redcliff, enduring the recent events instead of flying back to Rainesfere. He knew him and the few knights of Redcliffe left were all the help the townspeople were going to get to face the army of undead that came to them at night, killing more and more every day. He was starting to lose hope when one of the villagers walked into the Chantry followed by a group of unknown people, its integrants were the strangest mixture of races genders and professions he had ever seen. In the front, leading them, there was a blond dwarf with a pretty nose and a grim expression. She looked around now and then, between confused and worried. Right beside her walked a blond man in armour whose face scratched something in the back of Teagan's head, tough he couldn't figure what yet.

"Ah, hello, Tomas, was it? Who are these people that come with you? They're obviously not from here…"

"I found them on the road mylord, said they wanted to speak to the arl. I told them about the arl sir, and the monsters, but I figured it would be best if they spoke to you, mylord, they don't seem small folk."

"Well done, Tomas, thank you. Greetings, friends, my name is Teagan, bann of Rainsfere, brother to the arl."

Alistair stepped forward, suppressing a relieved smile. "Bann Teagan, it's good to see you again. I don't know if you remember me though, the last time we met I was a lot younger… and covered in mud."

"Covered in mud…?" It felt like a lightning had just struck the man, his expression relaxed, his features lit up, and his eyes widened while the identity of that familiar face dawned on him."A-Alistair? It is you! Isn't it? You're… you're alive! This is wonderful news!"

Somehow, those words made Alistair uneasy, his companions noticed, as if the thought of being alive made him uncomfortable. "Still alive, yes," he said "but not for long if teyrn Loghain has anything to say about it."

Miach never thought Alistair capable of putting so much venom in a sentence. The bann didn't notice the bitterness, or he shared it. "Indeed, Loghain would have us believe all Grey Wardens died along with my nephew. Amongst other things."

The elf spoke the first. "Well… not all of us died"

Teagan looked at him for the first time and raised his eyebrows. _Surprised an elf made it out of the forest… ha!_ Miach gave him a predatory smile in exchange. "So… you are a Grey Warden as well?"

"Surprised?"

But before the bann could answer, Gudrun stepped forward and drawn his attention to her. "Yes, we four are, including myself and Amell here. We wished to see the arl, and came here on Alistair's recommendation, he spoke very highly of you." That last statement was a lie, Alistair hadn't told them anything about Teagan, good or bad, but Gudrun had been a princess once, and thought she usually felt more comfortable with an axe, she knew how to wield flattery as well.

Teagan sighed and rubbed his forehead. He reminded Gudrun of herself. "Ah, my lady, though I'm glad you are all alive and that you came, seeing my brother right is going to be… well, complicated."

* * *

**One last chapter before Christmas! I know is short and it hasn't too much action (ok, no action at all xD), but don't worry because next chapter the heroes will be fighting the army of zombies and maybe visiting the arlessa. More blood, ice spells and all that stuff.**

**I plan to make a little sneak peak into the past of each warden just like I did in the chapter with Alistair.**

**Thank you for reading and following! Everything belongs to BioWare blah blah blah especially Teagan's dialogue. Spark is mine though! Hahaha And her name is another little tribute to Geralt O.o**


	11. Corpses, secrets, and bad memories

Dwyn had complain a lot at first, when the sun was still in the sky, but once the sky darkened and the moon rose, the dwarf stopped his ranting. He wasn't exactly an honorable person, but he was a professional, and even if he played the merchant now, Gudrun could tell he was a true warrior.

The militia was waiting behind the barricade in front of the chantry, Gudrun had left Murdock and Dwyn there and the Grey Wardens and their companions went uphill to join the few knights of Redcliffe left that were going to fight next to the windmill. Murdock had appointed a boy named Dale as messenger. He was barely 15 and he was willing to be useful. Miach and Iola had kind of adopted him during the afternoon, and now, waiting next to Ser Perth and his knights, Gudrun could hear Iola biting her nails, thinking about poor little Dale.

"Iola, please, stop."

The mage sighed and Miach patted her shoulder. "He'll be alright, you'll see. You should worry more about us." He said, and he cackled. His laugh in that moment disturbed everyone except for Morrigan and Iola, the witch even smiled.

"How hard can it be to kill something that's already dead?" Alistair asked, almost chuckling.

"I'd say quite difficult." Iola answered, completely ignoring the sarcasm, and now Alistair was starting to think she did that on purpose.

He chuckled. "I guess we'll see soon enough. I'll tell you what, if you're right, and we survive, drinks are on me."

Then, suddenly, a voice ripped the night air apart. "Here they come!" They all rose their heads and saw a terrifying green glow pouring out of the castle and crossing the bridge. No figures could be distinguished, but it felt somehow as if the night had gone colder. The light was so visible in the distance while it came down the road towards the village, that for a moment even torches lost their warmth.

Iola stroke her chin. "Alistair?"

"Yes?"

"Just so you know, I like antivan brandy."

"Tis hard to imagine the templars in Kinloch hold giving brandy to the apprentices." Morrigan said, with a hint of malice. Iola giggled.

"Well, they didn't give it to us, you know? We kind of had to… give it to ourselves. I remember an evening, like three years ago, my friend Anders…"

It was then when the first undead came charging down the road, midnless, ready to slaughter or be slaughtered. They faced the well armored knights and the Grey Wardens and their companions, and for a few minutes the fight went well. The two mages, Miach and Leliana dealt with a great deal of the creatures before they could even touch the other fighters, but their number did nothing but grow.

Every time, more and more came. Shileds got dented and armours got dirty, and Iola was the only healer of the group. She tried not to waste too much energy in any task other than healing and stunning or slowing enemies, but she liked to be aggressive, fortunately, Morrigan had a few good spells for that too. Not healing no, but for making easier the fight for their companions.

A particularly large number of undead reached the windmill once, and though most of them were stopped next to the barricades by the knights and some of the wardens, a couple of them managed to cross the line and reached the archers. They attacked Miach, for their own unknown reasons, and even before he could cry for help, Leliana dropped her bow, grabbed her dagger and rolled over the floor next to one of the corpses, slicing its ankles.

The creature fell with a gritty growl and she got up again to help Miach with the other one while Morrigan took care of the howling, feetless undead.

The elf knocked another arrow while giving the sister a strange look, somewhat angry. "Well done, sister."

She looked like she was about to say something but in the end decided not to, and just nodded.

After that, it wasn't long before the saw the slender figure of Dale appear, almost jumping in its haste, but panting. "Help!" He screamed. "We need help down in the village! They're coming from the lake. The militia is going to be overwhelmed."

The poor lad was out of breath, and he had to stop in mid sentence a couple of times to catch some breath but he seemed unharmed.

"You can hold yourselves here, can't you?" Gudrun asked Ser Perth. The knight nodded.

"We're perfectly fine, and I don't think there'll be much of them coming now. Go help the militia, my lady. We will let you know if we need you again."

The dwarf showed her agreement and then addressed Dale. "Stay here, you. And come down to us if there's trouble. Alright people, let's move!"

* * *

Murdock, the mayor of Redcliffe, was surrounded by three walking corpses and Miach's arrow pierced the neck of one of them, and an ice shard from Iola beat the other one. Murdock did the rest. The militia was outnumbered but they were fighting bravely, Gudrun sent Miach and Leliana to the staris of the Chantry and told Morrigan and Iola to stay on the slope.

"I can do more good near you. I can stun them and freeze them…" Iola argued.

"If we need you, we'll call you. You do your healing."

"I'm not a…" She said, ready to state that she only knew a couple of spells and that she was in no way an expert healer but she shut up as soon as she saw the dwarf wasn't paying attention to her.

Gudrun ignored Iola and addressed the warriors. "Sten, take Gorim with you and defend the right flank. Alistair?"

Without hesitation, the templar smiled and charged with her to help the militia. Gudrun had her battle axe with her again, and with Alistair the terror of the shield beside her, she felt ready, for the first time. Ready and anxious.

They joined Dwyn and his thugs in the front line, protecting the weaker fighters of the militia from the worst of the attack. They worked well together. Dwyn and Gudrun were dwarven warriors, tough, and trained in a similar way, their tactics had been learned in the same place. They resisted for a great amount of time, but eventually, with the third wave of undead, they were separated and forced to retreat. The number of enemies was so great it was impossible to watch them all. One of Dwyn's thugs, a tall man with a bad eye called Crip, was slaughtered on the spot by a corpse than came from behind while he was trying to defend himself from other two.

Many were injured and two more members of the milita were killed, and Iola's magic couldn't do much good, she wasn't an expert healer, after all. The corpses separated the warriors, isolated Sten who resisted alone, Gorim barked and howled. Alistair saw Murdock was in trouble and jumped right into the fight to help him. Gudrun tried to go with him but the attackers blocked her path.

* * *

She was falling. She was. Under the pressure of an entire army of undead. Alistair was fighting his way through the walking corpses but he wasn't fast enough… not that he could. Iola saw Gudrun's blade piercing the dry rotten ribs of one the creatures, but that was the last she saw of her. Without thinking she threw herself in the middle of the battle and casted the mental explosion to stun her friend's enemies. Then the ice cone, and then a weak, tired healing spell. _Oh blast._ Her body was exhausted, there was no mana left at all. They were going to catch her too.

"Iola! What do you think you're doing?!" Alistair was there, right beside her, killing those things, or at least trying to stop them from killing her. "Alist-" "Stay close to me!"

Iola was a sensible person. Reasonable. Logical. But when there's no time to think sometimes you just have to… hit. And so she did. Hit everything in sight with her staff until she could reach a lyrium potion in her belt. "Alistair we need to get Gudrun! They've surrounded her!" She stunned the enemies around her again. "Now!"

Alistair did as he was told. They had only a split second to act and it was all about trust. Iola had been reckless, coming into the middle of the fight like that, but she was already there, and the only thing he could do was to decide if he trusted her or not. They _had_ to save Gudrun. She was their leader, their best chance against the Blight, he knew that. So when Iola told him to charge, he did. The zombies around them were paralyzed, just for a few seconds, and it gave them time to reach the ones attacking the dwarf.

He felt some arrows behind him, but they weren't aimed at him. It was Leliana and Miach watching their backs. Alistair smashed, hit, kicked and everything he could think of until he found the raging dwarf fighting for her life, all her face covered in blood, swinging her axe against every corpse that got in her way.

Once they thought they had secured the place, they run back to the steps of the chantry, and it was then when a soft cry made him look back. More undead were coming from the lake, and one of them had hit Iola with an arrow. "Iola!"

She tried to heal herself but she was drained from the fight. Alistair ran back to her, seconds before the creatures reached the barricades. Arrows flew above him, hitting some of the invaders. "Iola, come on…"

"Lyrium. I need… lyrium." He tried to actually lift her but they were almost surrounded. The mage kept searching inside the bag in her belt but her hands were shaking too much. Alistair rose his shield above her and then heard a voice calling. "Just give her the sodding thing already!" Gudrun had come back for them.

Once her mana was restored, Iola was able to heal herself enough to stand and helped them defeat the last charge of undead. The sun rose. They had survived.

* * *

The worst part had been when Morrigan pulled out the head of the arrow from her back. Iola thought she would faint with pain, but she didn't, which surprised them both, and she chose a sack of grain to rest with the other injured.

The chantry was full of people torn between extenuation, joy and grief, smiling weakly and crying softly, and the sunbeams filtered through the colored windows of the building. The Grey Wardens and their companions had black circles around their eyes. Morrigan was trying to avoid everyone except for her companions, Leliana was now assisting the mother Hannah. Not far from Iola, Miach was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, head tilted. His eyes fluttered shut now and then; he wasn't asleep yet, but not quite awake.

Iola looked around and saw Alistair approaching. His nose looked awful, and it wouldn't surprise her if it had been broken. She was tempted to offer some help, even though she was exhausted and doubted she could do anything anyway, but it had become an habit. Something else came to her mind though. "You did it again." Iola said

Alistair looked like he was about to say something, and then her sentence struck him and his expression changed. "What are you…?"

"Cover me. Again."

He looked baffled for a second, blushed even, but there was something else in his mind because he frowned and then did something Iola wasn't expecting; he yelled at her. "How could've you been so reckless!? Jump into the middle of the battle field! Without… anything! You could've died! They could've killed you! By the Maker, Iola! You have to keep your distance! You- I can't… You scared me to death!" He paused, breathed a couple of times and tried to calm himself. He reached out a hand, almost touched her shoulder and then drew back. How… confusing… "I'm… sorry, I should not yell at you but I was…"

Iola had gone pale, for a moment, Redcliffe had disappeared, and their joining had never occurred. For a moment, Alistair was a templar and she was just an apprentice being punished. The vision only lasted a second, but the feeling in her guts prevailed. When he touched her she winced and lifted her hands to protect herself instinctively.

"Iola… I'm sorry. Are you alright? I'm sorry, Iola what's wrong?."

The mage swallowed, fighting to muster an icy glare, or at least, to concentrate. Yes, concentrate. Logic, reason.

"Don't yell at me. You have no right. Step back!" She tried to control the access of rage. Her memories had nothing to do with all that. They were going to talk about the battle. She knew she was right and she was going to make him see reason. "Alistair." The mage was serious this time. All reason. Logic. "I am a Grey Warden as much as you are, and Gudrun is my comrade as much as she is yours. You have no right to tell me to stay away from the fight when I'm needed. She was surrounded. You were too far away to reach her, and I couldn't cast the spells I needed from such a long distance. You know I'm right. I am right. Weren't we a team? Didn't we work together? You have no right to be angry, to yell, to…" She was going to say 'hit me', it just came to her, like a fading memory. She realized though, he had barely even touched her, so she swallowed it. "You templars…" Iola didn't say anything else, but she couldn't stop the venom from spilling.

And that venom hit Alistair in the face, making him realize. "Oh… blast it… I'm an idiot. A fool. The worst kind of fool, the worst kind of stupid…nobody... Iola I'm sorry. I was worried; you have no armour, no other weapons other than your staff and that kitchen knife you stole from the quarter master at Ostagar and…"

Those words worked like a spell, they vanished the bad memories and brought Iola back to Redcliffe and the wardens. Alistair was a Grey Warden now, like Miach had said, not a templar anymore. Never even one.

"He insulted Miach." She muttered, still shrunk.

"What?"

"The quarter master. He insulted Miach. I don't feel bad for taking this."

Alistair looked up at her. Was that an 'apology accepted' in her voice. "I never liked the man, anyway. He called me Duncan's warhound, which made me sound a lot more intelligent than I really am."

Iola bit her lip, almost smiling, almost chuckling. She tried to change her position and a dull pain was awakened in her back where the arrow had been. "Aaauuuch."

"Hey! Go easy on her, boy. Give the mage some rest." Former Lady Aeducan approached them limping, and with a cloth stuck in one of her nostrils. She had overheard Alistair's rant and seen the anger in Iola's eyes before the departed quarter master had made his appearance. "She saved my life." Iola gave her a grateful smile. "She saved my life and you saved hers and…"

"You saved mine." Alistair completed, still feeling a bit embarrassed. His behavior towards Iola had been irrational, it was just… well, he didn't know what it was, but he thought Iola should get herself some armour.

"Yes, and I had to save my own ass, very pretty." They all turned back and saw Miach barely managing to stand, leaning against the wall.

"Yes Miach, you are your own man, we're happy for you."

Gudrun burst into laughter. A strong, deep, heartwarming laughter.

* * *

The crowd had left the staps of the chantry after the mass when Teagan gently placed a hand in Gudrun's shoulder. She knew what he was going to talk about. They had survived the night, but the problem was far from solved. Whatever was happening at the castle was still a mystery to them and now they had started helping the people of Redcliffejust so they could see the arl, they'd better continue and reach the bottom of all that mess.

"Meet me at the windmill when you've had had a rest." Teagan said, and turned to give his congratulations to Murdock.

Gudrun limped back into the chantry, rubbing the bridge of her nose. There was a secret there, and a big one, she could smell it. Lots of trouble ahead. Ahrg, Duncan had never said the life of a Warden was easy, but she hadn't imagine it would be like that. She had a feeling things would only get worse. At least she would get to see her father again at some point… And speaking about fathers and secrets…

All her companions were trying more or less to sleep, or at least to rest before what promised to be a long day. Alistair was already snoring. Gudrun approached and kicked his arm softly with her good leg. The warrior opened an eye, just one. "Yes?"

"You, we're going to talk."

That made him wake up instantly. He knew what was coming; they were going to have the chat. Alistair Theirin, you idiot.

She took him to a corner where they could avoid any indiscreet ears. Gudrun was a dwarf, and not a particularly big one, Alistair looked down at her and felt small even if he was twice her size. Gudrun's eternal frown had come back, she was all covered in blood, had a black eye and several cuts and bruises. Her nose though, looked prettier than ever in comparison.

"This is about my father, isn't it?"

"Yes, Alistair, yes. It is about your father. Sodding ancestors! I knew there was something going on when Duncan told you to stay out of fight. It was that! They had to keep you alive just in case… just in case what happened, happened. You knew it! You knew it was important! Can you tell me why in the name of all the Paragons did you hide that tiny piece of information from us?!"

A part of him thought she wasn't being fair. It was his secret, his blood, his. And he didn't want it. All his life, he wanted to escape from that, and he thought the Grey Wardens would give him that opportunity, but you cannot run away from the truth. If only Cailan was alive… but anyway, who was princess Gudrun to complain about family secrets?

Her expression relaxed a bit at his frown. "You should've told me, Alistair. It was important."

He couldn't look at her, he couldn't. It was clear she was disappointed with him, and she was wondering if her trust had been misplaced. But she was being unfair, she was…

"I am sorry Gudrun, I really am, but how can you blame me? What about your story? Huh? Isn't that important? Can't it be problematic once we get to Orzammar? And you didn't exactly confess the first time we met."

"It's not the same! My brother-" Gudrun took a deep breath. "Look, my problems with my people are only important within the walls of Orzammar, your father, in the other hand… Look, I don't give a sodding nug liver for your king Maric, but I'm not stupid, we're in Ferelden, where eople care about those things. We're being hunted down by Loghain, who has declared himself king, in case you have forgotten. You have a responsibility with the team, with me. I know it's hard, dammit, I've been through it, but it's vital. Does Loghain know? I bet he does. What if he had decided to act against you? It's…" She had to stop in the instant, the memory of Bhelen's treason stinging. "It's possible, probable. He won't want you around to threaten his power. If he had decided to attack you…none of us would be expecting that!"

Oh blast it. She had a point, and a very good one. He had almost messed it up, just because… because… because he didn't want them to judge him. If he had told them before Lothering… they would've thought he was trying to play the boss, usurp Gudrun's leadership, or they would've treated him as if he was something special and delicate.

Alistair sighed.

Gudrun managed half a smile, ready to make peace with him. "Look. What's done it's done. But you never do anything like that again. It's all about trust, we need to know each other, the good and the bad, and specially the complicated."

"You're right… commander."

Gudrun's eyes widened and at her surprise, Alistair smiled. Another confirmation of her new role as leader of the remaining Ferelden wardens. She opened her mouth to make any kind of comment but eventually closed it again. Alistair had a strange small tooth next to one of his fangs, his smile was so wide she could see it. Looking up at Alistair, Gudrun didn't feel the height difference as much as with other humans.

"Come on." She said.

He nodded.

* * *

The village looked peaceful from the top of the hill. There were a few people moving around the chantry, coming in and out, going to their homes and coming back running. The feeling of victory from last night was there, but they couldn't forget the situation in the castle hadn't change, and that that night another small army of walking dead could attack again.

Bann Teagan was fidgeting a lot when they finally reached the top of the hill. He seemed nervous and wouldn't stop playing with a golden ring he was wearing. He saw the little group approaching and his expression went through an wide range of emotions, form relieved to concerned.

"Ah good, you're finally here. How are you all felling? Did you have something to eat?"

Gudrun ignored those questions while some of the others answered politely. "Why all this secrecy? Why did you make us come?"

Teagan eyed them all before he answered; the determined and grim dwarf, the susceptible dalish elf, Alistair his almost nephew, a man now, the mage that wasn't looking at him, the black haired woman, the orlesian beauty that smiled at him, the qunari. "I know how to get into the castle. There's a secret passage here, in the windmill, it can be opened with this;" he showed hem his ring, "the family seal."

Gudrun sighed; there it was, the secret. There had been a way, they could've entered the castle. "Why didn't you tell us that first thing?" She wasn't angry, not even a little, just tired. So tired. Teagan looked embarrassed, but still firm.

"I knew you would want to go inside before nightfall, and I was hoping the townspeople and I could get your help to defend Redcliffe. I was right."

There was no point in discussing that now, the battle had been won and many lives had been saved, but now they were tired and sore. Gudrun shook her head. "Is there something more we need to know, bann Teagan? I've been dealing with too many secrets lately and I have no patience for nonsense."

Teagan was about to answer when his jaw dropped and his eyes drifted from Gudrun to the road. "Teagan! Teagan!" A woman's voice called.

The wardens and their companions turned around and Iola heard Alistair groan at the sight of the blonde woman in an expensive gown running down the road.

* * *

**Hello! And forgive me for the delay! Busy Christmas and all. Well, there's no chat with the arlessa, but there are some walking corpses. I think at this point you have already guessed dialogue is my favourite thing to write hahah**

**Also, I'm curious, do you readers have a favourite warden? Gudrun, Iola or Miach?**

**Well, I hope I can bring you the next chapter soon. If not, Happy new year!**

**I have much to learn, and so if you want to help me improve this story don't hesitate and leave a review! :D**

**BioWare is lord and master of Dragon Age etc etc etc**


	12. Mouse, rat, broken

**Heeeeeyyyy! Hello everyone! I'm sorry about the late update buut, you know busy Christmas, with me being abroad for three months I had to visit a lot of people and eat and drink with grandparents and uncles and cousins and... anyway. Here's the new cahpter.**

* * *

I hear them before I see them. They're noisy. _Stomp stomp stomp_ on the stone. I'm small and insignificant for them. People. People don't care about the small things around them.

I'm minding my own business when they come. I've found the rotten crumbs of a biscuit that fed some prisoner some time ago. It is good and I am hungry. I'm really hungry. The past few days have been strange. Dangerous. Rotten flesh is waking from the stone floor and walking. I hear the screams night and day. I've ate some tasty flesh, people flesh, it's fresh and tasty. I ate some yesterday. Today is biscuit. Maybe Rotten Flesh ate all the tasty fresh flesh in the big castle.

I hear them come. _Stomp stomp stomp_. They are three, no, four. One of them is very light. It walks like a cat. I can hear the cats of the castle, but they are not as nosy as people. I hide in the hole of the cobble stone. Some people hate good mice like me, some don't care. I hide because some people try to kill me.

Here they come, from the passage nobody uses. Only us. Mice. Rats. We come and go to the Place with All the Grain, big people never use it. These people are using it. I see a person. The first person who walks like a cat. It is a pointy-ears male, I feel him before I see him. I hear him and smell him and then I see him. Then the other three come. One is very big, very noisy, I heard him from a long distance. This one won't catch me.

"Everything alright?" Asks one of the other two. This one is small, it is a female, she is the smallest but really strong. She could step on me and I would die. I shall be careful with this one. _Stomp stomp stomp_. She makes a lot of noise.

"Yep." The small man answers.

"We need some kind of formal key words." The big male says, but the others ignore him. I wonder why.

I'm curious, they walk into the big human cages and they come from the passage that goes to the Place with All the Grain. I know I shouldn't, but I follow them. I want to know if they are going to eat all the rotten flesh or if the rotten flesh is going to eat them. I want to know, because rotten flesh is bad. If rotten flesh kills everything, I will have nothing to eat. I need to eat, I need to know, so I follow them.

They stop suddenly, I know why. Rotten flesh is waking up. I see them fight. They don't have teeth but they fight. Small female and big male have strange silver claws. I've seen this claws before, they're sharp and cut deep. Small male has a big stick that throws other sticks towards the rotten flesh. I know humans call them arrows, and the big stick is a bow. I know this because I visit the castle a lot and I've been in the armory, yes, not like other mice. The armory is a place full of claws and teeth, called swords and arrows and axes…

Big male and female woman are quicker than they look, still not as quick as me, but they can outrun the rotten flesh, and their claws are better than mine for rotten flesh. There's another female, a tall one, she makes something with her arms, flashing lights, it's really cold and then it's not, and I don't understand, but I remember. I remember seeing this before. Here in the castle, and I don't understand it, but I remember.

I follow them because they kill a lot and I want to see what they do with the human in the big cage. Maybe they'll kill him too and I'll have more fresh meant to eat.

* * *

"Hey! There's someone here!" Miach whispered, once sneaked into the area of the dungeons. They all approached the cell he was pointing at and Iola had to cover her mouth not to shout. She stepped back, and grabbed the first thing she found, which in that case was Alistair's chestplate. Fingers and nails made a weird sound against the metal as she clenched her hand.

"Jowan?"

The slender figure squat in the bottom of the cell opened his eyes wide. "Iola? Is it you? What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here? In in… in… in a cell?!" Surprisingly, she wasn't angry. At least, nos as much as she had expected. After all, Jowan's dabbles with blood magic had almost got her killed, but still, she couldn't find in her all the rage she was supposed to be feeling. There was frustration yes, and disappointment. "You leave Lily and me to die for your freedom and you end up in a cell? Really? Really?! All those years knowing you and never discovered how stupid you are! Idiot!" No rage, no anger, just frustration and disappointment. Lots of them.

Miach leaned closer to the bars and examined a frightened and very much confused Jowan. "So this is the guy, huh? The blood mage." Alistair grunted. "The guy who betrayed you." Alistair grunted even louder.

"Betrayal is a strong word." Iola said. "It makes him sound a lot more intelligent than he really is, apparently. How in the Fade did you get caught, Jowan?! How!"

Her old friend sighed and approached the bars. He looked awful. Deprived of food and sleep. "I was Connor's tutor." He said flatly.

"What? What?! Don't tell me you've caused all this mess! Morrigan said it could be… oh no Jowan! Don't tell me you did this! Don't tell me you summoned a demon." She sounded ready to believe everything. Iola had missed the signs that told everybody else Jowan was a blood mage, even if she had thought she was the person that knew him best. If she missed that, she didn't really know him. He could be an orlesian spy for all she knew.

The other mage raised his hands in an apologetic gesture, his eyes wide. "No! No please! I didn't do it, you have to believe me. I did poison the arl, but I didn't-"

It was Alistair's turn to be outraged. "You did what?!"

"Jowan!"

"Stop!" Gudrun raised his hands. The conversation was going far too fast, and she was getting the impression that they were missing a major point. "You, mage. Jowan, is it?"

He nodded.

"You said you poisoned arl Eemawn?"

"Eamon."

"Shut up. Jowan, you poisoned the arl?"

The mage nodded again.

"And you said you were Connor's tutor? The arl's son? Why? Is that why you were in Redcliffe?"

"Yes, my lady." Iola snorted.

"Why… tell us the story. From the beginning. After you left the… Tower, that is. That tower of yours."

It took Jowan a few minutes to organize his memories. "Well, I got caught."

"But we destroyed your phylactery!"

"Iola, please!"

Jowan's lips twitched for a split second in what was going to be a smile. Despite all his mistakes, they had been friends, and she was still the same Iola he knew… well, almost.

"I got caught. Imprisoned by Templars, near Denerim. Then someone came to see me and offered my freedom in exchange for my services."

"Your services being poisoning the arl, I assume?" Gudrun asked, knowing too well where the whole story was going. Too many times Orzammar had seen 'arrangements' like that one. When Jowan nodded, Gudrun snapped her tongue and asked her question, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer. "And who offered you this deal?"

"Teyrn Loghain. I thought… he was a great general, isn't he? So I thought he must had his reasons…"

Alistair gritted his teeth and Miach let out a short, bitter laugh. Loghain again, who else? Alistair had said that arl Eamon was a powerful political figure in Ferelden and late king Cailan's uncle, so it was obvious why Loghain would rather have him out of the picture. But there was still one piece missing.

Iola stepped forward. "You said you were Connor's tutor? Tutor? Y mean… he's a mage?"

Jowan nodded. "He is. The arlessa didn't want to send him to Kinloch Hold and she thought that maybe an apostate mage…"

"I'm sure you didn't tell her the whole blood magic thing." She said, bitterly.

"Ha. No." He reached out a hand and then drew back again. "Iola… I am so sorry. For everything, for what I did to you, and… to Lily. Iola, tell me please. How did you escape? And where is Lily? Did you take her with you?"

Iola shook her head. "I was conscripted, I'm a Grey Warden now. Pure luck, you know? I could be dead… or worse."

"A Grey…" Jowan allowed himself a minute to be amazed by his friend's new lifestyle, before returning to the subject that had had his mind occupied for weeks. "What about Lily? Please tell me, please! What happened to her?"

Iola pursed her lips, torn between telling her old friend what she knew and punishing him for what he'd done to her. She finally gave in. "They sent her to Aeonar, Jowan."

"Oh Maker.,. And all because of me."

"Yes."

Silence fell between them, and Iola felt there was nothing else she could say. Not about what had happened at the Tower, at least, but still there were some questions unanswered related to the issue at hand, questions in which Gudrun was par inticularlyrested.

"What about the corpses then? Did you do that? Did the kid do that?"

Jowan shook his head. "No, no. I didn't do that, I swear! I poisoned the arl, yes, but I didn't summon a demon! That must've been Connor. It all started after I did what I did. He's only a child…"

That information was unsettling, Iola was already expecting the worst when the Templar side of Alistair asked the question for her. "Do you mean Connor is an abomination?"

"I don't know! I don't think so, but I don't know. I was already locked up in here when all this… mess started."

"Then what? What's happening? How could Connor summon a demon? Did it reach him in the Fade?" Iola asked.

"Probably… I honestly don't know."

Gudrun sighed. Jowan looked down at her.

"What… what are you going to do with me? I want to fix what I've done. I want to help but… I don't want to die."

The dwarf rubbed her forehead. Too many things, too much new information, an urgent task and too many loose ends. She couldn't handle the dead corpses, a demon child and an apostate terrorist at the same time.

"No offense, mage, but you are the last of our troubles. We have to reach the source and I don't trust you enough to let you come with us. I won't spend energy taking care of you. We'll leave you here by now. I'll… we'll see what happens next."

Jowan didn't answer. Maybe a nod, but nothing else. He wondered if they would survive. Iola didn't look at him when she turned to follow Miach and Gudrun. Alistair gave him a look full of fury.

* * *

Reach the courtyard, open the gates for the knights, find Connor. Reach the courtyard, open the gates, find Connor. Reach the courtyard, open the gates, find Connor.

With a clear objective in mind, Gudrun and her companions moved quickly, or as quickly as they could while fighting the rising dead.

"Where now, Alistair? Do you remember?" The dwarf kept asking him, and Alistair made an effort to remember a castle he wasn't allowed to walk freely as much as he'd liked.

"Along this corridor, it should be at the end, the door to the courtyard I mean. I remember once Spark was chasing me…" He stopped suddenly, his face darkening. Spark worked at the castle. She probably still worked at the castle then, when… oh Maker, she was probably dead.

I had been almost 12 years since he last saw her, but it stung. Her hypothetical death felt heavy on his soul.

"We still have to try and find this girl, Valena or Vilenna, right?" Miach said.

"We're opening every door and getting more bruises than living girls right now." Gudrun answered, not noticing how hard Alistair was swallowing. Even if the smith's child was alive, what were the chances of his childhood friend being alive too? He didn't dare to think about them. He'd rather not to.

"One last door before the stairs." Gudrun reminded them, "One last door and we'll assume the girl is dead."

The four of them were standing between the stairs to the courtyard and one last door that probably lead to a storage room. Miach looked nervously around them, wincing at every shadow, hissing every time a mouse squeaked –and there was one squeaking very near, it seemed-. Iola had been silent all the time since the encounter with Jowan the apostate and her friend. Former friend? Old friend? She had had some trouble concentrating and that had cost them some extra burns.

They opened the door and immediately, a high pitched scream pierced their ears.

"Don't kill me! Don't kill me! No!"

There was a girl. A living breathing girl. Miach had to smile. Oh the irony.

"Ey! Calm down! Calm down. We're not going to kill you. We're not going to hurt you. Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Alistair offered the scared maid his brightest smile, even if his insides were twitching.

"I'm fine… who are you? How did- how did you get here?"

Gudrun referred briefly to their quest and then asked the question they were all dreading. Well, maybe Miach was more curious than actually worried.

"What's your name?"

"I'm… I'm Valena. Please, you have to help me, I've been hiding here for days!"

"Valena? You're Owen's daughter?!"

"I am…"

Alistair suddenly grabbed her by the arm and leaned closer. "Valena, please, do you know an elven maid named Spark?" The anxiety was obvious in his voice. The girl looked at him, mouth open, clearly confused by such question on a situation like that.

"I… I'm sorry sir. I'm afraid-"

"Oh please no…"

"I don't know her, sir. I've never met anyone named Spark."

This time it was Alistair's turn to look confused. "Really?"

"Never, sir."

Maybe she'd flown away after all. She could be dead still but, but at least there was hope. She could also be free and happy. Some things worked out fine by themselves, it seemed. They kept moving forward as soon as they explained the terrified but determined Valena how to make it out of the castle. _Run as fast as you can and don't look back_. She said she knew the place and had been blessed with quick feet, which Gudrun thanked, because they lacked the time to be taking care of everybody.

"Well, we should be able to reach the courtyard from here, going up these stairs." Alistair said. Gudrun nodded and then looked at Miach in a very eloquent way.

"Right. Time to do your thing, little pretty shadowy elf." A dark and bitter reply. He was not angry with his companions, of course, but Miach had had enough of condescending looks and scared faces, showing that most of the people of Redcliffe believed every story ever told about dalish elves. Little and pretty, elves should be, or so those humans thought. Luckily, Gudrun only expected him to be efficient.

Cobblestone and walls and open spaces weren't his favourite place to work, but Miach was able to crawl among the few shadows surrounding the courtyard and saw what was waiting for them there. He came down, sweating a bit, smiling savagely.

"Hehe, you won't believe what's up there. Hahaha."

His companions had gotten used to his strange laugh and stared at the elf eyes wide open.

"Andraste's breakfast spoon, is it really that bad?!"

Miach scratched his neck. "Well, there's plenty of them, but with the help of the knights, who are already waiting up there, by the way, it shouldn't be difficult. What worries me is a really big and really ugly creatures that walks as straight as a candle. I don't know, it looks… at little less dead than the rest of them, but also like really really dangerous. I've seen some shadows and ghosts in the Brecilian forest, it more or less looks like them."

Gudrun arched and eyebrow and Alistair found out that outside the topics of darkspawn and blood mages he was pretty much an ignorant. Iola bit her lip though, and frowned.

"Shit."

"What?" Gudrun, Alistair and Miach turned to look at their up until then silent companion.

"I think I know what it is. It must be a revenent, if it looks like Miach said it looks. Powerful demons summon them, which means that whatever has made a deal with Connor is a resourceful beast."

"I wish we had a stupid enemy for once…" Alistair sighed as Gudrun and him ascended the stairs after Miach, followed by Iola. "Just one stupid enemy…"

* * *

Miach's first and most important job was to remain unnoticed the time it took him to use the lever that opened the gates and get knights of Redcliffe, led by ser Perth, to help them with the fight. Turns out, that was the easiest part. At least until that ugly bastard Iola had called a revenant noticed him and threw in his direction a giant black spear that was threatening to chop his head off. Miach crouched just in time, thanks to his quick reflexes, but the weapon didn't miss him all.

A terrible pain pierced the tip of his right ear. _Please don't tell me I lost it please Creators please…_ He didn't dare to check if there was a gap in the side of his head or if he had become a flat-ear literally. Dutifully, Miach pulled the lever first thing and once the knights stormed into the courtyard, he retreated a bit, and with a trembling hand touched his ear. Well, it was still there. He had an ear! But it felt… incomplete. He touched the tip, the pointy end, and discovered horrified that the sharp edge was now hanging from a slim thread of flesh and sinew.

"Fenedhis! Ma lhaw! Ma lhaw! Fenedhis, ma lhaw!"

He stared at the blood on his fingers, the image of his ear appearing in his head again and again. They had cut off the point, the pride, the honour, the symbol. And those were walking corpses, undead, that didn't even know what they were doing. His knife was gone for nothing. Nothing!

No arrow could be satisfying enough. Miach grabbed his blades and threw himself in the middle of the fights, screaming for his lost piece of flesh that meant so much. "Ar tu na'din, seth'lin! Ar tu na'din!"

He looked around for the revenant, it was standing still in the middle of a glowing blue circle. _Oh Iola, ma serannas. _Gudrun saw him launching himself forward, ready to stab the creature in the neck.

"Miach! What are you doing? Get back here!" But the elf wasn't listening. He was too busy stabbing the thing here and there, trying to look into two eyes that held nothing; no emotion or feeling, and that frustrated him so much. He wanted revenge, but he couldn't have revenge against a puppet.

A corpse came from behind him and tried to attack him. Gudrun appeared just in time to cover the elf's back. It was then when the revenent started to move again, and its black nightmare sword swayed, pushing Miach back, making a deep cut in his armour. Gudrun's axe stood between the blade and its mistress head. The creature drew it back and took his aim again, but this time what stopped was a blade through its head. Gudrun looked up; there was ser Perth, panting.

They heard the last crak of bones falling on the stone. Miach touched his stomach; there was blood. This wound didn't worry him as much as the other one, but it was clearly more severe. When Iola knelt beside him and asked him to take the chest piece off, she noticed for the first time all the blood covering the side of his head. And the ear.

"Oh Miach…"

He looked at her like a lost puppy, voicing his request. "Can you fix it?" He knew she couldn't but he had to ask.

"I… I can heal the wound, but the tip… is lost."

"What?!" Miach winced and the pain in his upper stomach made him growl. "It was there, hanging… I remember… touching it. It was hanging…"

"It's not there anymore."

He was going to cry. He knew he was going to cry. Nevertheless, he tried not to. "Ah ma lhaw, ma lhaw… my ear, my fucking ear…"

"Stay still, please Miach, I need to heal your other wound first, or it'll get really bad." Iola used what little mana she had left to heal the raw cartilage of his friend's ear, and once she was finished, not even looking at him in the eye, she hugged Miach, with all the strength she was capable of.

There was understanding in her gesture. For an elf, losing that part of him was one of the most terrible mutilations one could suffer. She didn't want to put that into words, because she was afraid of hurting him more, and at the same time, she'd been needing some contact since they had found Jowan.

"I am so sorry..."

Miach shook his head against her neck, hiding the tears. When they parted, the elf looked serene again. "Come on, Iola. And don't worry about this anymore. I'll have my revenge at some point." He said, as they followed the knights and their companions into the castle.

* * *

**Well, it's not very long, right? I wanted to write the conversation with Isolde, Jowan and Teagan afterwards, you know, when you decide Connor's fate and all... but it didn't really match, so expect another short chapter after this one, because I don't want to mix that episode with the tower. Emotional journey ahead!**

**Thanks to FalconHawk and the sweet Guest for telling me their favourite wardens... or should I say warden? Miach is winning at the moment! Hahahaha Is he really a big favourite? Come on don't be shy and tell me :D**

**Notes on elvish:**

**Fenedhis: According to the wiki, a common curse.**

**Ma lhaw: 'ma' means mine or my, 'lhaw' is actually the sindarin word for 'ear'. Yes, since I couldn't find a canon word for 'ear' I used sindarin xD**

**Ar tu na'din: 'I will kill you'**

**seth'lin: an insult meaning 'thin blood'.**

**BioWare lord and master blah blah blah**


	13. Demon-children for beginners Part 1

"Lord Teagan!" Alistair ran towards the body lying on the corner. Lady Isolde approached him too, as Alistair put a hand in the bann's neck, checking for pulse. There was no need. Lord Teagan opened his eyes and with the warden and Isolde's help he was back on his feet again.

"Oh Teagan, Teagan! Are you alright?" The woman sounded genuinely worried, but considering how big was her part in all that, she ought to be.

"I'm fine… thank you Isolde… Alistair. Thank you for not…" Teagan looked briefly at Miach and then back at Alistair, and he stopped his sentence there. A few moments ago, when they had been fighting, many of the guards' minds and Teagan's under the demon's influence, Miach had almost killed the bann.

He was attacking him and the elf was bitter about his ear, hurt, and really outraged by what Demon-Connor told them he had done to the elven servants of the castle. It all went around the same topic: ears. The elf was frustrated, and enraged, and Teagan had been there. Luckily, Alistair was able to stop him before he could actually do any harm. Teagan was understanding, or as understanding as a person could be in his situation. He'd seen Miach before they used the secret passage of the Windmill and noticed the small mutilation. He was no ignorant either, he knew how much that must be hurting him, how deep was the meaning of their characteristic ears to the proud dalish. He'd learned some things from someone… He decided to forget the incident and move on to more pressing matters.

Iola was torn between yelling at Isolde for being so reckless about her son's education, and agreeing with her. Well, at some extent. It wasn't fair that she had to be sent to the Circle Tower and Connor got to stay at home with his parents. Nobles or commoners, humans and elves they all belonged to the Circle… and that was a thought she didn't like. But it was so unfair… argh, her head was going to explode. In the long run, though, it had been proven a mistake to let Connor be without a proper education. The servants in the castle would agree… if they could.

"You did this." She blurted out. "Your selfishness did this." Oh it hurt so much. Was that how a mother was supposed to love her child? Like Isolde? Or was that wrong? "Jowan poisoned the arl but this wouldn't have happened if…"

"Iola." Gudrun's tone was calm and even. She undid the frown in her forehead just to look at the mage in the eye. Iola swallowed. Right. There were more pressing matters.

"First of all," The dwarf began, "we need to know how to get rid of the demon. We found the mage that was tutoring the boy in the dungeons, do you think he could help?"

Iola scowled. "Why not? Blood mages are well versed in demons…" She muttered, so the arlessa wouldn't hear her. "He says he wants to…" She said a bit louder this time.

"How can we trust the man who tried to poison my husband?" Isolde complained, but Gudrun gave her an angry look and by all the ancestors, that seemed to work.

"We're looking more for his personal input about the matter." She said. "I'm not saying we'll necessarily let him do anything. He was a bit… shocked, when we found him, maybe his head is clearer now he has had time to assimilate… well, the emotional blow." She gazed at Iola for just a split second.

"Emotional blow?" Teagan asked, a bit confused.

Iola herself answered that before Gudrun could. "My lord, the Tower of the Circle is not that big. Those who live there know each other."

Teagan looked like he was about to say something, but in the end just nodded. Gudrun stared at him. "So? Can we move on and go get him?"

The bann shook his head. "I still don't think he's to be trusted, but I'll do as you ask. Nevertheless, if he makes any moves to escape, I'll have to kill him."

Iola muttered something that sounded similar to "stupid enough to try", and Alistair shot her a worried look.

* * *

Bann Teagan came back from the dungeons accompanied by Jowan and one of the knights. The mage looked even worse than before, even if they had left him not long ago. The nerves of seeing Iola had probably caused a reaction. Sometimes the body worked like that.

Lady Isolde looked absolutely infuriated, and began to insult Jowan with all the words in her vocabulary, probably too much for Iola to handle, because she snapped her tongue and shouted at the arlessa herself.

"It's so easy to blame the apostate after you hire him! You wanted his help in the first place, so much for the pious behavior! Despise mages but hide a mage! Take a blood mage within the walls of your home and then blame him for your own mess!"

Everybody stared at her for a few moments, and just when it looked like lady Isolde would have Iola imprisoned, she broke down again and started crying. She sobbed against Teagan's sleeve, excusing herself for what she called 'a mother's fear'. The knights of Redcliffe, who had been slowly approaching the wardens in a slightly menacing way, relaxed their positions. Iola stepped back again and approached Miach, who was sulking in a corner.

"Mage." Gudrun called. And then in a gentler voice; "Jowan, no offense but it seems that you are the most well versed on demons in this place. What can you tell us about the one that's in Connor."

Jowan hesitated for just a moment and then regained his strength, as if he was determined to do the right thing this time. "First of all, it's not inside Connor per se, which is a good thing because if it were, the only possibility to get rid of it would be to kill the child." Lady Isolde increased the volume of her sobs. "But I think there might be a way to kill the demon without killing Connor, entering the fade."

Gudrun raised her eyebrows_. Continue_, said her gesture.

"I could send someone into the Fade using blood magic." He said, and took a deep breath. "Normally, it takes a more mages and a great amount of lyrium, but with blood magic I would only require… a lot of blood."

"You mean a blood sacrifice." The dwarf quickly completed.

"Y-yes."

Silence fell like a tombstone over them, and even Isolde stopped crying. She raised her head and looked at Jowan with red eyes. "Then let it be my blood. Use me for the ritual."

"Isolde!" Teagan grabbed her sleeve. "You're not seriously thinking…"

"Either way, someone dies, one way it's my son, the other is me. For a mother, the choice is clear."

Gudrun sighed. "Well then, if that's the only way, I'd rather sacrifice a willing victim than a child…"

"Wait." Alistair grabbed Gudrun's shoulder. "The Tower of the Circle is not so far away from here, and we have to go anyway. We could ask for the mage's help."

"More?"

"Yes, more."

"But it could take us days…"

Teagan was suddenly beaming. "Not if you take one of the ships. Some of them belong to the arl himself, you could use them to travel faster."

Gudrun looked back at Iola. "Iola, what do you think?" She was the mage, after all.

"They'll do it." She conceded. "If they can, they'll do it. Mages want to show that we're good for more than destroying."

* * *

"The ship is ready. I've convinced one of the fishermen in the village and his son to command it and help you."

Alistair, Iola, Leliana and Gorim were standing on the docks, waiting for the last details, ready to go to Kinloch Hold. Gudrun had decided to stay in Redcliffe to keep Jowan in line, and had asked Miach to stay with her, to what he agreed reluctantly. Miach was curious about how mages lived outside of the Brecilian forest, he wanted to see Iola's home, and he wanted to be by her side when she had the dreaded encounter with her past face to face, but above else he wanted to know if his ear could be… regenerated. He doubted it, and Iola told him as much, but there was still hope. He had gotten her promise to ask about the subject though, just in case, and thus he agreed to stay behind. The thought of the place being full of initiates and priests also helped him, and as Leliana had pointed out, a mage and a Templar, even if a former one, was what in the Tower people would call 'fair enough'. To which Alistair answered that he was no templar, but a Grey Warden. Gudrun said 'whatever' and the discussion was over.

"Lord Teagan." Alistair called. "Do you have a minute?"

"Of course, Alistair, what is it?" The warden looked back at his companions nervously, and gestured at Teagan to follow him a few steps away from them, to get a bit more of privacy in case bad news were delivered.

"Is there something wrong? You look… anxious." Teagan said.

"Well, I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me if there is. Answer me a question that's been…" He didn't want to ask, he was afraid of the answer, terrified even. His stomach clenched with just the thought what her fate could be, but he wished to know, if it was possible, remaining in the dark would be much, much worse. Maybe. Perhaps not. Alistair wasn't sure.

"I was wondering… I was… you don't… after all that's happen here you sure… you have your own lands to worry about of course, you probably don't remember…"

"What is it, Alistair, please?"

The former Templar took a deep, long breath, and mouthed an extremely brief prayer. "My lord Teagan, do you remember Spark? You know; elven girl, black hair, bright smile…"

Maybe he didn't. Maybe he didn't and it would be over and there would be nothing Alistair could do about it, maybe…

"Of course I do." And a smile had crept to his lips.

"You don't happen to… know… what became of her? After hearing what Con- what the demon made to the elven servants in the castle, I couldn't help but wonder…"

"She's alive, Alistair." Teagan answered at last. "She was the last time I saw her."

"And when was that?" Probably years ago.

"Three weeks ago when I left Rainesfere."

"W-what? Really?"

Teagan was smiling wide and openly. "Yes. You know she always got along better with me than with Eamon." Was that embarrassment in his eyes? "So when was given the bannorn I asked her to become part of the staff and she agreed."

Alistair sighed in relief. "So she wasn't here when…" Teagan shook his head. "So she's alive…" Teagan nodded.

"Oh Maker! I was so worried, so scared that something could've happened to her… to any of you but, Spark…" Alistair blushed as laughter turned into babbling. "I know I haven't seen her for more than ten years, but she was like… she was like… Anyway, I'm glad that you kept her safe, lord Teagan."

The bann blushed furiously, but refused to acknowledge the fact. "There's no need for you to call me 'lord' all the time, Alistair, you know this."

The two men stood in silence for a few moments, lost in their own happy memories, both a bit embarrassed for different reasons. "I'll write to her, and tell her I've seen you." Teagan offered.

"Tell her she was right." Alistair asked.

Teagan raised his eyebrows. "About what?"

"About everything."

* * *

** Very short chapter. Or what you could call a transition. Yes, sometimes they are necessary, because they don't match neither with the previous chapter nor with the next. Anyway, at least this one has an interesting piece of information about someone... Besides confirming the fact that Gudrun's favourite word is...? Can you guess? I bet you can! Show me!**

**Everything belongs to BioWare as always. Let me know when that changes.**


	14. Iola Amell

_"__Where is he?" It had been soft at first, soft like a snake sliding down one's arm, so Iola knew she couldn't trust the softness. She had learned not to. They had had to learn the difference between real kindness and the softness of the snake._

_Iola stared down at the table, refusing to meet the templar's gaze. "I don't know." She answered. And it was true, but he were determined not to believe her._

_"__Still not talking, Amell? We know you two got along, and we wouldn't like to see you pay for his mistakes. Tell me now, apprentice. Where is the mage Anders gone?"_

_Iola shook her head still not looking, never looking. "I told you I don't know."_

_They had been questioning the apprentices all morning, the ones that were close to Anders, which were actually more than one would expect, and now it was Iola's turn, and she could see little half-cleaned blood drops after someone's teeth met the table._

_"__You knew he was going to try and escape again, didn't you?" There was the trick question. Of course she knew, everybody knew, or at least every person that had Anders' trust. They simply could tell by his behavior._

_"__I didn't."_

_"__You lie."_

_"__I didn't know he would be stupid enough to try again." Iola dared to answer. There was a loud bang in the table that made Iola look up instinctively. She was met by ser Emeric's eyes of stone. He had a gaze so hard, so cold it could freeze one's bones. Ser Emeric was not old and not ugly, and there was this joke going on among the apprentices about him having no soul. But it was obvious he had, if a tormented one. He looked miserable, and was miserable with his charges, like he was making them pay for the sins of other people, for what the figures of his past had done to him._

_"__Listen to me carefully, apprentice Amell, we can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way. You didn't report his intentions and that's severe, but we could forget that if you tell us his current location, or his possible destination."_

_"__I told you I don't know!"_

_It happened really fast. One second Iola was barking at the Templar, the next her own teeth hit the table, and she could taste the blood dripping from her lip. She touched her teeth carefully with the tip of her tongue and discovered that one of them was broken. She raised her head, slowly, and found ser Emeric's nose right next to hers. Now Iola was starting to feel the pain in her mouth. The Templar grabbed the front of her robes and pulled her up, with the same violent movement, he pushed her against the wall. The back of her head made a dull disgusting sound against the stone. Iola's burning desire of turning that man into flakes of charred meat was slowly fading away, giving in to the fear, making her want only one thing; to get away from there, away from him, away from them all._

_"__Don't try to play coy with me, Amell. I know who whispers with whom after the curfew." He said, as he slammed her once again against the wall. Again, the low_ thunk_ resonated all over her skull. "You are one of the few…"_

_"__He's not… stupid enough… to tell anyone." To tell them anything it could put them in danger. It took her a great effort to actually articulate the words, but she managed, and it was not the smartest thing to do. Iola knew that much. But to hell with that, she was already getting the punishment for her tiny crime._

_"__So you knew he was going to escape again." Ser Emeric's left hand rose to her neck and tightened his grip of steel. Iola's eyes widened and she gasped, suddenly terrified. This could very well mean the end for her. If he tightened his hold too much… no one would blame him, no, those things happened, after all… in an interrogation to catch a dangerous apostate, such casualties had often taken place. _

_Iola wanted desperately to say something, but all the energy she had left she was investing it on breathing. Besides, there was nothing left to say. Maybe a please don't kill me could help, but there wasn't enough air in her lungs for the attempt. A terrible pain had built up her throat, as if was being pressed between the stones of a mill. And then, when she thought he was truly going to kill her, ser Emeric released her neck. A fresh wave of air came into her soaring throat, making her cough. The templar didn't gave her time to recover though, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall once more, and again and again. Iola made a weak attempt to release herself from his grip but it only made it worse. He grabbed her wrists, and twisting her arms, pinned her down against the table. There was a particularly disgusting tension building up her spine when the templar clutched a handful of her hair to keep her head from rising._

_"__You apprentices think you are so brave, rebels against your oppressors. It's just the age, I guess. I always had to deal with stupid girls like you who thought they were old enough to know what suffering is. I can show you what suffering is and you'll grow up. Grow up, mage! Your kind is too foul to live so well! But I can fix that if you don't cooperate."_

_That last sentence, he whispered it into her ear, and sent a shiver down her spine. Iola could feel him too close now. "Please…" the young mage whimpered. "Please, I don't know anything…"_

_"__And now we've come to begging." His tone was arrogant and dark, full of a vicious sort of humour. "You're a smart girl, are you not?" ser Emeric slowly released her hair, and Iola could finally move her neck, but all the hypothetical relief she could be feeling was shattered when she felt his gauntlet clutching the fabric that covered her hips. She shook and kicked with all the strength she had left, but she knew that the battle was lost already. He would smite her if she tried to defend herself with magic. _

_And then, the door of the room flung open and someone stepped inside, another templar, although Iola couldn't see him, she could hear the soft clanks of the armour._

_"__Ser Emeric, we have a confession." He said as soon as he opened the door. He assessed the situation. To his eyes, there wasn't much going on; just ser Emeric being hard on the apprentice's teeth, not unusual. Nevertheless, a thick silence filled the room as ser Emeric let go of Iola and without a look back he left the room. The other templar –he was new, Iola couldn't remember his name- looked at her with a hint of remorse in his eyes._

_"__You… you can walk, can't you?"_

_Iola nodded, wiping the blood from her chin._

_"__I suggest you go see Senior Enchanter Wynne. She's in the apprentice's quarters, attending othe…" He trailed off suddenly, and muttered something about having to go somewhere before disappearing after ser Emeric._

_There had been no confession at all. Obviously, Anders had told no one about his plans, because he knew what happened to accomplices. This person had made it up, probably because they just wanted the interrogation to stop. After the Templars discovered the truth though, there was punishment, but at least one could know when two weeks in an isolation cell would end._

* * *

Iola was staring down at the corpse of one of the Templars. His body all covered in blood and ripped pages from old books. His head burnt to the point of making him unrecognizable. Iola wondered who he might be. There were some more scattered around the place; a mess of flesh, ash and paper, ink splattered alongside the blood on walls and furniture. Some of the bodies she recognized, some others she didn't. It made her feel dizzy and out of place, like in a dream.

There had always been dangerous characters at the Circle, some. Some Templars feared and hated mages as much as the mages feared and hated them, and that had meant people got hurt, but this… this went beyond the imagination.

"We should get moving." A weary voice said. Iola turned around to face Wynne, her expression still startled. The elder mage looked at her former apprentice with a great sadness and compassion accumulated in her eyes.

"Wynne…"

"I know, dear. I know."

Iola breathed a couple of times and tried to focus her attention on Wynne's eyes. Deep and kind and bright, slightly feline. She concentrated on Wynne, a pillar amidst all the madness.

"Come on Iola. Maker knows Gregoir can only allow so much time. Children…"

"Did she just call us children?" Iola hear Alistair whisper in amusement. Leliana tried to hide a smile.

In the second level of the tower, they encountered blood mages for the first time. They were arguing when they were spotted, probably as confused as she was, probably not really knowing what had happened. But they tried to defend themselves and kill the intruders. Gorim jumped launched his body forwards and ripped one's throat off, making the bone visible. That one was only a few years older than Iola.

Leliana had assumed a more aggressive role in the fights, positioning herself right behind Alistair, and showed a remarkable skill with two blades. Iola faught almost with her eyes closed, or rather, trying not to focus them. She didn't want to see the faces, they were easier to fight if they were just a blurry shape. She had been training her ice spells, and decided that that was the time to release some force, and the frost she conjured ended up freezing Alistair aswell. Iola yelped, completely terrified, but Wynne freed the ex-templar from the effects with just a wave of her hand.

"Iola? Hello? Fellow Warden here!" He said, shaking off the icy flakes from his hair and charging against the last of the blood mages. Alistair channeled a white energy through his sword that made both Wynne's and Iola's stomaches' clench. Even if his templar abilities weren't directed to them, they still could feel the ghost of the effect.

"And you said you never took lyrium to strength your talents?" Wynne asked him.

He shrugged and shook his head. Wynne was looking at him intently. "Very impressive." The elder mage finally muttered, and that made Alistair blush slightly with pride, and a small smile appeared in his face… until he realized how Iola was staring at the corpses. He took a step forward, but somehow, Leliana was faster and the sister put a hand on Iola's shoulder.

"Kyle." The young mage muttered. "He was not even harrowed yet, was he?"

She was obviously talking to Wynne, and the other mage shook her head. "No. They were planning to give him a few more months."

"And that's… that's Debbie… I never imagined… never…" She suddenly fell on her knees and threw up, right on a pile of ancient scrolls no one cared about anymore.

"Oh dear!" Leliana didn't leave her side, instead, she gently pulled her braid aside. Wynne approached rushing and flushed a wave of healing magic all over her former apprentice. Alistair was about to try and say something comforting when a sound coming from a corner of the room distracted him. It was like a soft whimpering, if came from behind a shelf. He approached cautiously, sword ready.

"No! Don't kill me… please…" A voice begged.

There was another mage cornered there. She wore in her hand a forearm the marks of blood magic recently used and clutched her knees against her chest. The three ladies and Gorim approached, Iola looking paler than ever. Both her and Wynne stared at the woman in disbelief.

"Susanna…"

"I know, Wynne. I know and I'm sorry, please please don't kill me. We were just… I just… oh please have mercy."

"Susanna how could you? How could you turn like this?"

The woman's blond hair was a mess of blood and ash, and her eyes were red and had black circles around them. She had spent too much time living in the middle of that horror… an horror she had helped create.

"We thought we were doing this for all of us, for the mages. Sometimes changes take a little bit more than words… so we thought, Uldred convinced us, he said we needed to force the change, because if we didn't do it… nothing would ever happen… and now… This happened. This horrible mess… so many of our own are dead…"

"Nothing is worth what you've done to this place!" Wynne barked harshly.

"You too know how was life here!" Susanna protested. "Always watched by those Templars… always… and the power they thought they had over us… you know! You both know how it was."

Iola swallowed.

"Please just let me leave… I'll go away, hide, give this all up, just… just… don't kill me."

Wynne was about to say something but Iola spoke first. "Go away. Go away now!"

"Thank-"

"Leave!" She roared. The woman hauled herself to her feet and ran away looking back at them several times, but they didn't notice. They were all looking at Iola with concern. How much could she take before reaching her breaking point? Of course, Gudrun had had no idea of what awaited them at the tower, but now, seeing it, Alistair and Leliana wondered if it wouldn't have been best for Iola to stay at Redcliffe.

Alistair of course, had also some worries about this Susanna they'd just let escape. "Are you sure thiiiaaaaaahhh!" Leliana was pinching his arm, a warning look in her eyes. Well, he was smart enough to catch the meaning of that; shut up.

"We should continue, dear." Wynne said in a gentle tone that pulled Iola out of her thoughts. She took a breath and stared at her for a few seconds, as if she didn't understand what the old healer was trying to say.

"Oh yes, yes. Irving."

* * *

They kept going up, and Alistair watched Iola's expression grow harder and harder with each fight. This disturbed him deeply, and once or twice he tried to approach her and offer some kind words to appease her, but every time she shot him a weird, grim look and no answer came from her. He started to wander if he had done something wrong. Or maybe it was… he was never going to get past the templar thing, was he?

The frown in the mages' faces vanished when they reached a dark but wide room in which a single man was standing in the middle of the chaos, occupied in the trivial task of piling boxes.

"Owain?!" Wynne and Iola rushed to his side and asked him if he was alright or if he wasn't afraid. Alistair, Leliana and Gorim watched for a while, slightly confused at the sight of a person calmly resuming his daily tasks while people were dying all around him. Then Alistair recognized the symbol on his forehead and realized what it was; a tranquil.

Alistair had never seen a tranquil, and that Owain made him shiver. His voice was so… so flat, so lifeless, he didn't look real. Still, Iola seemed to be quite fond of him. She and Wynne smiled at him and patted his arms and asked again and again if he wanted to go back and they promised to make sure there were no monsters around the stockroom. He wasn't really paying much attention to the conversation until Iola gasped and said. "Niall did WHAT?!"

"He took the Litany of Adralla and went to confront the evil in this tower. Those were his words." The tranquil answered with his even, calm tone.

Wynne tapped her chin. "The Litany of Adralla protects from mind domination. If it wasn't obvious before… now it is. Blood magic at its worst it's what we have here." She sentenced. "Brace yourselves, children, the way up is long."

Seeing Owain was alive and well, had actually been like a healing salve for Iola, relaxing her a bit, it helped her concentrate again, focus the reality and making her see some hope. And so, when Alistair muttered 'Children again?' she smiled weakely.

* * *

**Chapter 14! I got so far, I'm so proud of this little baby hahahahaha No, seriously, I'm having a great time writing this story and my three tiny wardens and I just hope you are enjoying it.**

**As you can see, this is Iola's chapter; a tiny fragment of past and all that stuff you already saw with Alistair. Each warden will have at least one, so there you go. **

**To Miach's fans : I'm sorry he's not going to be in these few cahpters in the Tower, but I honestly didn't think Gudrun would judge a good idea to leave Redcliffe unattended, and since the mission was supposed to be easy, why not leave those four to it? Gorim is a good dog, isn't he?**

**Well, many thanks to the people who are leaving reviews, I appreciate them, and I would even appreciate them if they were written to correct my spelling. So go ahead hahaha**

**Everything belongs to BioWare and you all know why.**


	15. The new order Part 1

"Well, he is not here…" Wynne looked around Irving's office, apparently untouched by all the destruction. She wasn't really expecting to find the First Enchanter there, neither had Iola, but at least it was nice to know that some things had stayed uncorrupted… The old mage shook her head and left the room accompanied by Alistair and Gorim.

Iola was shifting her weight from one leg to the other, a bit nervous about being there again in such circumstances. As soon as she stepped into the First Enchanter's office, she'd felt a sudden flush of happy feelings. Seeing it so perfectly preserved, made her forget for just a split second all the horrors that were taking place in the tower. Seeing it again without Irving inside made her wonder… what if he was dead? What if he was dead and Gregoir had no choice but to annul the Circle? What would happen to Irving's earthly belongings? What would happen to all those things she always wanted to read and investigate but was too young to?

Reasoning, the situation offered one reasonable solution. Iola could go through Irving's possessions, and grab whatever she found particularly irresistible. And if he was alive… well, surely he wouldn't blame her for borrowing something, would he?

"Aren't you two coming?" Alistair's voice called from the door. It sounded so warm… healing, almost. Iola looked back at him and opened her mouth to excuse herself but she couldn't think of anything to say.

Leliana, apparently, had read her like an open book, just like Gudrun used to do. "She needs a moment." The sister said, and to stress her statement, she passed an arm around Iola's shoulders. The young mage saw her raise an eyebrow no one else could see.

"What is it?" The redhead whispered.

"I…" She hesitated for just a second. "I wanted to go through Irving's stuff, maybe get something I…we… could use against the darkspawn… I uhm… I know I probably shouldn't do it, but the times…"

To her surprise, Leliana smiled and patted her chest gently. "Say no more. You get what you need to get and I'll make sure neither of those law lovers disturbs you." The sister turned around with a twirl of her hair, graceful as a ballerina, and went to join the others. Iola stared for a few moments, a new determination to ask Leliana about her previous life now arising in her head. She wiped the sound of Leliana's strange words from her head and focused on the task at hand. Her eyes studied the shelves and tables with a clinical gaze. Then she walked around, grabbing some interesting scrolls here and there, and even an old lightning rod Irving had left in his desk. _This will come in handy._

Her hands looked into the desk and her fingers found else against the back of the drawer. The touch was leather and string. She pulled the item out and discovered an old black book in which she recognized one word: Asha'belannar.

There were at least two people she knew that would be interested in what was inside that book, and though Iola suspected it was in Irving's office for a reason, and probably a very good one, she couldn't help herself and took the volume to her pack. Whatever that thing was about, it was much more than some dull blood magic tevinter tome. It had to do with Flemeth…

When she approached her companions, Wynne noticed the lightning rod than now hung from Iola's belt, but said nothing about it, probably thinking that they should take all the help they could get. And she was right.

The Templar's quarters were all covered in a sticky red substance that one could take for flesh all smashed and neatly rearranged as a carpet. It was disgusting, Alistair looked genuinely sick, and Leliana squeaked every time she heard the soft sound of her shoes detaching from the sticky substance.

The noise of their steps and their disgust warned the inhabitants of a nearby room, four Templars and two mages who ran towards them ready to slaughter them. The Templars were obviously possessed by the blood mages, but they were weak shells deprived of food and rest. Iola froze two of them and stunned the other two, as she gestured to Leliana to go and take down the mages. One of them, a young girl Iola did not recognize, sliced her wrist open and hit the sister with her wave of cursed blood. Leliana fell backwards thus leaving space for the other mage to attack Iola. He sent a wave of fire and the girl a lightning bolt. Iola tried to protect herself with the arcane shield but the attacks were too powerful. She fell to the ground, recognizing the smell of burnt hair and wondered if her face would be ok. Suddenly, the fire mage –who was already preparing for another attack- turned into a statue of solid rock, Wynne's work. Leliana was getting on her feet again and attacked the paralyzed mage with the pommels of her daggers, making nasty holes in his skull that got everything bloody once the man returned to his flesh form. Iola faced the blood mage and paralyzed her with an entropy spell Morrigan had taught her, then sent a shard of ice to her heart.

As the young mage fell, Iola realized she couldn't hear the noise of steel against steel anymore, just Gorim's howls. She turned around and for a split second she thought her stomach would throw itself out of her mouth with anguish. There were Wynne and Alistair sitting together, the older woman had the templar's hands on her own and was pouring healing magic onto him. He seemed fine though, not as bad as she had thought at first, he was conscious and smiling, and Iola let out a long, deep sigh without noticing.

Leliana tapped her shoulder. "Look at what I found in one of the bloodmage's packs." What? The sister had been looting corpses? The conversation about Leliana's past was overdue, definitely. Not that Iola complained about her talents; desperate measures for desperate times. "I think it's some kind of robe for mages." The redhead said. It was a dark fabric, with strange buckles and a strange collar. "Tevinter, I'd say."

Iola touched it and looked up at Leliana. "It's enchanted."

"Maybe you should keep it. It seems more appropriate for fighting than what you have, anyway. No fabric in the way of flames, you know." Iola arched an eyebrow and looked at the sister with a curious expression. Intrigued now more than anything.

"Though Alistair thinks you should get yourself some armour."

"What?"

Leliana shrugged, smiled at her and left the room.

* * *

"Shhh…" Leliana stopped them again with a wave of her hand, not far from the room of their last fight. "Do you hear that?" There were voices, voices coming from another room nearby. A man and a woman, and they didn't sound stressed or scared, not even a little bit worried.

The sister approached carefully, all by herself, to make the less noise possible and stopped at one side of the door. She remained there just standing for a few moments before waving at the rest of them for them to go with her. As they approached, Iola could hear pieces of the conversation.

"The children are already in their bed, my dear…"

"Even our little one?"

"Even our restless little one, much he loves adventure…"

That was… odd. And the worst part was that one of the voices sounded familiar. Yes, the man's voice, it was… he was… Iola froze once she saw what was happening. Of course the voice was familiar… it was him. Him. Entangled in a loving conversation with a… desire demon. It was ser Emeric.

"You go and say goodnight to them." The demon was saying. "I'll wait for you here, and then we will have our dinner, you and me alone, dear husband."

"Of course my dear, I'll be back as soon as I've kissed all our three little birds good night." Ser Emeric replied with an entranced expression. Iola had opened her mouth and couldn't close it; so that was it. Really? The deepest desire of that terrible man was a happy family life? His most terrible weakness a loving wife? It sounded ridiculous… at first, but then it all made sense.

Of course he was miserable and brutal. He resented his past for not giving him what he wanted. He would never be able to have a family as a templar. Never. It was not the apprentices fault, but someone had to pay for that. All the love turned into rage, good feelings caged inside his templar armour and left to rot became resentment, hate, power lust. A part of her even felt sorry for him. How could a man fall so hard and so low?

"Oh dear! I hear someone is knocking on the door. I'll go see who it is, hum?" The desire demon touched ser Emeric's cheek lovingly and then turned around to face the intruders with a totally different expression.

"You have interrupted a most loving and private moment, you see… we were not expecting visitors…"

"You've… possessed him." Wynne said. "That's not loving."

The desire demon pressed a hand against the part of her chest where a human heart should be. "Oh but it is… this poor man wanted a family who loved him, far away from the Chantry and the mages… and I am here to grant his wishes… there is love in his dreams."

"But they're just dreams. You're killing him with illusions, what you're doing, is monstrous." Wynne looked completely furious, and Leliana utterly offended. Alistair just seemed confused. Iola didn't know what to think.

"What are you going to do with him?" She blurted out.

"Nothing, I'll remain with him, watching the world, until he dies. He will have his dream, and I will be able to see, to explore. I am content with him, as he is with me. We harm no one."

"No one? Is he not a victim of your plots?!" Leliana exclaimed.

"No he's not." Iola spat. It came to her in a wave of rage.

Wynne reached out a hand and squeezed Iola's shoulder. "Dear, I know what you're thinking, but there is no way we can allow a demon to roam free."

"I am not dangerous for those who don't disturb our fantasy." The desire demon argued. "Him on the other hand… or his friends…" She pointed at three fallen Templars, "they will be not so understanding if you try to bring us apart. He would rather die than let me come to harm."

Death. That was a punishment too. The demon would consume him anyway too… How could she be thinking those things? Killing… _no Amell, focus. Focus. Do you really need his life? Do you?_ But he was going to die either way, and the only question remaining was which way made the greatest punishment? Locked up in his fantasy? Consumed by the same thing he swore to fight? Prey to a demon? Irony would be satisfying enough. On the other hand… Wynne was right, they couldn't just leave a demon out on its own… who knows who else could it possess after the templar's death. That was ser Emeric's Harrowing and he had failed. Irony was satisfying.

A part of her wished to punish ser Emeric by letting him stay in the claws of that demon, but she knew Wynne was right. What good it would be to do exactly the same thing people like accused mages of doing? Consort with demons. No. What would the few people that thought mages weren't just vessels for evil think of her? Iola took a deep breath. Ser Emeric was already having his punishment. She didn't want to kill him, but she couldn't let the demon go free, when the deal with Gregoir was to clean the tower and make it safe again."I can't. I want to let you go, but I can't."

Wynne looked at her former apprentice horrified, but in the seeing the decision made was the one she would have chosen, she made no comment.

The demon looked at them with half a smile and then turned to look at the possessed ser Emeric. "My husband! There are bandits at the door! They want to kill the children!"

"Over my dead body!" He answered, his open eyes looking at something that was not there.

Iola held her staff high and hit the floor with it to make a glyph. "It will be my pleasure!"

Three more Templars rose then from the floor, they looked more dead than alive, but that didn't prevent their swords from cutting. And they weren't the only ones attacking, the demon was releasing its own magical power.

"Alistair!" Iola screamed while she sent a flash of ice towards the templar attacking Gorim. "Do something with the demon!"

"What?"

"Templar stuff!"

"Oh right." He pulled away from the fight for a second and smited the demon. It worked, and for a few moments they could his it without interruption, but there was still a templar in the room with enough life in him to try a similar tactic. The wave of white energy hit Iola and Wynne and knocked them down. Ser Emeric ran towards them, sword ready, ready to chop their heads off. With no mana left at all, Iola raised her staff in a weak attempt to block the blow, but it never came.

Instead, a large figure launched itself against ser Emeric and pushed him aside. Alistair hit the templar his his shield until he got him on his knees, Iola felt her reserves coming back to normal. "Help Leliana and Gorim!"

He looked down from the fallen templar to Iola, hesitating.

"Come on!" He did as he was told and went to help Leliana in her battle against the demon and one last templar. Iola watched ser Emeric hauling himself to his feet again. She hit him with a shard of ice and then made it explode. "You… have… failed… your Harrowing!" Screaming, she threw at him a last trick of spirit magic and watched him explode.

* * *

"Do you remember it?" Duncan smiled at her, helping her off the cart.

"Of course I remember." Iola took the hand he was offering her and she looked around, her heart pounding inside her chest. After long days… hours… ahh… after a long journey they had arrived; Kirkwall at last. She was back. It was exactly as her child eyes remembered it. All big and mighty, the same shapes and sizes, the same kid at the gates… that was the first thing that started to bother her.

"I'm sure your parents will be very pleased to see you again, now we've stopped the Blight and you are an honorable Grey Warden."

"My… parents?"

"Why yes my dear. You wrote them a letter, remember?"

My dear? Did Duncan just call her my dear? That seemed… strange, though she didn't know why. Wait yes, she knew why, because he'd never called her that before.

"Why are you suddenly so… familiar with me?"

"Because we are a family now." Answered a voice behind her. It was Alistair, he had just gotten down the horse, and right next to him, Gudrun and Miach. "But you already have another family and so we came to see them. Besides, we have to prepare the joining for Jowan and Anders."

"Are they going to become Grey Wardens too?"

"Of course! They'll be part of the family." Suddenly, Duncan took her hand again. It felt cold.

"Come on, let's not keep your parents waiting."

Iola pinched the bridge of her nose. "But we've only been here for… I don't remember writing a letter."

"Don't you? I was with you when you sent it." Miach answered. She looked at him. There was something wrong, something wrong with her Miach, something she couldn't grasp. Why? What was it? What? And then it hit her.

Miach's right ear was perfect again. Whole and perfect. Something cliqued in iola's mind, and everything around her started to crumble. That was not right, not right. Duncan was dead, the Blight hadn't been defeated, and she wasn't in Kirkwall again, it couldn't be…

She started to walk away from them, but they followed her. 'Come back Iola! We're going to see your parents!' 'Come back, dear, where are you going?' 'Come with us, why do you want to leave?'

Duncan strode quickly towards her and grabbed her wrist. "Are you running away from home? What would your parents think of us? We must take you to them. You said it yourself."

"You're dead!" She spat. "Not real!"

"Of course we are real…" His eyes were not brown anymore, they were red, fire and darkness. "And you are coming with us."

"No! Leave me be!" They were too many and she was alone. Alone. There were too many of them, whatever they were, just not her friends. They grabbed her arms, her hair, they dragged to the city gates. Iola let out a burst of ice and their grips tightened. "Leave me! Leave me now!"

"Leave her alone, monsters!" The copies of her friends got distracted with this new voice and let her fall. As Iola got to her feet again she discovered the owner of the voice; a young elven girl with brown skin and hair that made her look like she'd just been painted all with the same colour. She was wearing still the apprentices robes, but carried a powerful staff. "Iola they're demons! We have to get out of here!"

"Ylena!" Ylena Surana. Still alive.

With each other's help, the two old friends were able to defeat the demons that were tempting Iola with their version of happiness, and as soon as they were dispatched, Ylena took Iola through the gates of the fake Kirkwall to another plane, one that looked very much like the Fade itself. "Come on, last time I saw him, he was around here somewhere…"

"Who are you talking about?"

"Niall. He discovered the Nightmares."

Iola looked at her friend, still confused. "The Nightmares…?"

"When the Sloth demon trapped us, he coated himself in our dreams, there are more people dreaming here than you and me; the other mages, two Templars that had resisted so far…"

"Who was with you?" Iola asked, obviously anxious to hear some news of her former colleagues.

Ylena scratched her forehead. "It was Niall's idea… I followed him, with enchanter Alton, Ceifell and Martina. We found ser Alec and ser Hannes here, they joined us and then… the sloth demon… we fell asleep… I- I honestly don't know for how long we've been here. When I got out of my Nightmare I found Niall here in the Fade… he had a theory about how we could get out but we didn't get far."

"What…?"

"I reached ser Alec's Nightmare."

"Did he come with you to save the Circle? Is he alive?" Iola asked, her eyes widening with hope. Ser Alec was an old templar that had been serving in the tower from before Iola was even there. He used to reprimand the apprentices who talked too much in the library and usually it was him who awaited the new apprentices with a hot meal when they first arrived at Kinloch hold. He was there when Iola arrived at the age of nine. Just as ser Emeric embodied almost everything the Templars did wrong, ser Alec took his duty seriously, and treated mages as people, and children as children and not abominations.

Ylena shook her head. "I don't know… When I reached he said he was glad to see me and then he… vanished, just like Alton when I found him. I don't know what that means, but I don't think it's good… because you are here, like me. I'm pretty sure I'm not dead. Or Niall… dammit, Niall where in the Fade are you?!"

The last sentence made Iola snort. Where in the Fade. She knew Ylena and the elven girl had probably done that on purpose… she had a very particular sense of humour. Now that she thought about it, it reminded her a bit of Alistair. _Oh._

"Ylena! Have you seen anyone else here? Senior Enchanter Wynne? Or a redhead girl? Or a blonde man? Or… a dog?"

Ylena looked understandably confused. "I… no. I was surprised to see you. I got into your dream through a portal in enchanter Alton's nightmare."

Iola scratched her head. Nothing was making any sense. "Alright, just… explain me please what is happening, and how do we get out of here."

"We've got to find Niall… Niall! Where…? Ah! There you are."

A third figure appeared; a pale, thin, handsome man with black circles around his eyes. "Ylena? Who's that? Oh! Amell? Is it you? What are you doing here?"

"That was my question in the first place."

"You mean the Fade… well, a sloth demon trapped us."

"I know that part, what else can you tell me? Can we get out of here? Have you seen my companions?"

Niall shook his head, his eye wide shut. "I… I… slow down. It's hard to concentrate in here, it feels like I've been here for ages…" He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again. "I don't know what's happening to me, Ylena has remained strong, but I can't… I just…"

The elf reached out a hand to rub his arm. "Niall just calm down. Calm down and explain Iola what you discovered. Now we have help, we can get out of here."

"Right. Right. Well. The demon, Sloth, trapped us here, each one of us is trapped in a different dream or nightmare. These nightamres act like layers. If we can get everyone out of their own illusions we'll be able to find Sloth and kill it. At least that's what I think. We've already done so much; Ylena, me, you, ser Alec… wait, where is he?"

Ylena shook her head. "I don't know. He vanished, just like enchanter Alton… I think…" Her lip trembled. "I think they might be dead."

Niall didn't seem too affected by the news; well, he was, but in a sort of distant way. "Oh… but still, their Nightmares must have fallen."

"I- I think so, yes."

"So you still have to find Martina and ser Hannes and Ceifell, and then…"

"And my companions. Senior Enchanter Wynne, a woman, a man and a dog. Do dogs dream?"

Ylena shrugged. "I guess we will discover it soon enough."

* * *

There was a beautiful forest, green and full of life, the scents of animals and flowers were strong, and there were rabbits everywhere. There was also a man there, laughing and throwing sticks tirelessly. The mabari chased after them, and when he was particularly quick, he was rewarded with a piece of roasted rabbit.

Iola knew the person cooking the rabbit; it was Gudrun. A demon-Gudrun.

"So dogs do dream." She muttered.

"A mabari warhound, Iola? I'm impressed." Ylena chuckled.

"It's not mine, but I think he'll be glad to see me anyway. Gorim!" She called. The dog barked happily and ran towards her. He seemed immensely happy to see her, as if he had been expecting her. Iola crouched beside him. "Gorim, you know that's not really Gudrun, don't you?"

Gorim barked.

"And that's not your former master."

He barked again.

"But I'm real, am I not?" He jumped and knocked her off her feet, while licking her face. The demons started to take notice. They attacked at once; a dog probably didn't seem like too much of a prize. Or perhaps, it was Gorim's own knowledge of the situation that forced them to abandon their masks. With only two of them, the fight didn't last much.

Iola, Ylena and Gorim wandered along the forest as it grew less and less leafy, and the leaves in the ground and the buzz of insects slowly transformed into a city. One that Ylena quickly recognized. "This is Denerim."

"Is it?"

"Yes, I remember it… I wonder whose Nightmare this is."

They didn't have to wait long to find out. A demon-child passed right between them running and laughing, and the man chasing him stumbled into them.

"Alistair."

"Iola!" He gave her one of those giant smiles. "You're here! Funny, I was just thinking about you. I thought… well, I thought it would be great if you met my sister and her children. I mean, that's what people do, isn't it?"

"W-what? Sister? You have sister?"

"Yes! Here name is Goldanna, oh look! Here she is." A blonde woman walked out of one of the houses, surrounded by another little flock of children. Alistair pushed Iola forwards. "Look, Goldanna, this is Iola the other grey warden I talked you about."

Demon-sister grabbed her hands and shook them. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last; Alistair has told me so much about you."

"Um, really?"

Someone coughed behind them. "Iola, focus."

Oh right. Thank the Maker for Ylena. Those demons were being too charming for her own good, and somehow, that dream was similar to her own, having to do with a lost family. Iola pulled away from the demon-Goldanna and put a hand in Alistair's shoulder.

"Do you remember Duncan?"

* * *

The Fade was not a beautiful place, at least that side of the Fade where demons were. Iola wondered if they would have to spend eternity in a place like that after their death. She hoped the part where the souls of the dead lived was prettier.

Ylena was starting to have memory lapses when they reached the sloth demon, just like Niall. Of all the six that had accompanied Niall, only her had been able to reach the demon's plane. Niall followed them aswell, but he could barely walk, even less fight.

Ylena did her part though, even if her spells got weaker and weaker with each blast of magic, and some point, Sloth grabbed her and threw her against a rock. Iola tried not to think much about her friend lying on the ground, who knew if dead or alive, and concentrated on the fight. Luckily, the Fade amplifies magic, and each spell of destruction came out of the mages twice as powerful, she even froze Alistari and Gorim more than once. In the end, Wynne sent a great fist of stone that smashed the demon's head against the ground, killing it. The elder mage had a savage expression in her face.

Iola rushed towards the fallen elf, and made sure she was still breathing. Ylena opened her eyes slowly, and when Iola placed a tiny bit of raw lyrium from the fade in her hands she was able to heal herself a bit.

"It is done. You've killed it." Niall approached them limping. He had a grey halo all around him, and the colours of his skin and robes started to look dead in comparison with the others.

"I knew you could do it. I failed, but at least we've done something… maybe with our help you two and your friends can stop Uldred. If you take the Litany…"

Ylena reached out a hand and grabbed his. "Niall, what are you talking about? You are coming! You've gotten us so far…"

"I'm afraid I… I feel… I feel… Ylena, do I look like the others?"

The girl didn't dare to answer.

"There you go. I already knew I wouldn't make it… I feel like I'm slipping… somewhere…"

"No! Niall no! Don't leave me after this no! You said yourself you were destined to do great things you have to stay…"

"Heh… that's what my mother used to say."

Ylena tried to pull him closer, but he was already fading away.

"Amell, will you take her of her?"

Iola swallowed and nodded, not knowing what to say.

"No! NO! Niall come back! Come back!"

The echoes of Ylena's cries still resonated when the darkness swallowed them all again, and brought them back to the marble floor all covered in blood of the Tower.

* * *

**Heeeeeyyyyyy I'm soooory for the delay! I'll have my exams soon and I lost a lot of time playing Mass Effect so now I have to catch up argh it's a mess. Anyway, here's this chapter inside the tower, more Iola, as you can see. I didn't plan for the Tower of the Circle to take me this long but here we are and there is yet another final chapter left. I hope hahaha I want to get out of this place as soon as possible and get back to Gudrun and Miach.**

**Thanks for reading and following and for the kind reviews and as always know that I encourage those. Leave stupid reviews if you like!**

**Everything belongs to BioWare blah blah blah.**


	16. The new order Part 2

(AT: All those bloody stairs.)

Iola approached her old friend crawling over the dirt. Her companions were slowly, weakly, standing up again, feeling dizzy. Ylena wasn't awake.

For a moment, Iola panicked, but on a second look she realized the elf was still breathing. "Wynne… Wynne please come here please." The elder mage walked towards them, helped by Alistair.

"How is she? Will she live?"

The senior enchanter took her time, checking Ylena's pulse several times, pouring some waves of healing energy now and then. "Sadly, we can't take her with us… I don't want to tire myself before we find Uldred, just in case… but don't worry, she'll be fine. I think it'll be better if we let her sleep for a while."

"Are you sure? Will she be in danger? Dreaming-"

"She's not dreaming, Iola, she's unconscious. I assure you she's in no danger, and as soon as we come back to her we should be able to heal her properly. Don't give me that look, Amell, who's senior enchanter here?"

Iola groaned but got up, defeated. She didn't want to look around and see the rest of the corpses, she didn't want to see the lifeless eyes of Niall, Martina, ser Alec, enchanter Alton, Ceifell and ser Hannes. She stared at her feet, scratching the wooden staff with her broken and dirty nails.

"Are you alright?" A soft voice asked from her side. Iola shook her head. Alistair put an arm around her shoulders, probably full of brotherly concern, but it felt warmer than any friend of hers.

"We are going to save him." He said. "We are going to save your…" He stopped himself before saying anything else because he didn't really know how to call Irving. And then, he remembered Miach rolling on the floor, laughing, calling Duncan 'his father' without any reservations, in such a 'matter-of-fact' way that made his chest swell with affection. "… your father."

The door of the next room had been torn, two more corpses laid on the floor. At that point, Iola had stopped trying to recognize them. There were too many, and in such condition… it was surreal to think those were the people she had once called family. The next person they found in the room, though, was alive; imprisoned in some kind of magic cage or force field much like Wynne's own barrier. This person, Iola recognized.

"Ser Cullen! You're alive!"

She expected some kind of confused expression on the man's face, maybe a question, maybe even a scream, but not what he did.

"This trick again?! You will not break me! You won't!" He refused to look directly at them and for a moment, Iola just stood there, puzzled. She slowly approached the barrier. This person might be mad already.

"What do you mean? Cullen, it's really us, it's really me, Iola… and Senior Enchanter Wynne."

He covered his face with his hands. "Oh Maker preserve me… how far they must've delved into my thoughts! Is it not enough?! You didn't succeed before… and you won't now… even if you torture me with her, with the only thing I've ever wanted and could never… no! Oh Maker is this your punishment for my weakness? I know I should've been stronger… a mage, of all things! I should've been stronger."

Only the shock of the previous fight prevented Iola for blushing, for she was fairly sure Cullen wasn't talking about Wynne. Some of her companions looked more confused than others. Leliana had a look of understanding in her face.

"Poor soul." The sister said. "He's been tortured! He's been deprived of food and water… and sleep. I can tell." She finished, a bitter note lingering in her voice.

"This is monstrous." That seemed to be Wynne's favourite word. "What they have done to this boy… he's exhausted… and even so he has endured. Don't worry ser Cullen, we will finish this soon enough."

"Yes!" The templar roared. "Finish it already! I won't submit!" He raised his gaze for just a moment and looked at Iola in the eye. Black circles darkened his look. "And you? Aren't you going to say anything? You're getting worse at impersonating her."

Iola took a deep breath. It hurt her so deeply that all the good had been killed or tortured like that. He had been good to her; others claimed that it was because this templar harbored some feelings towards her, Iola believed that such feelings weren't present in the hearts of bad people. That treatment hadn't erased what he was, but it had softened it, at least for her. "Ser Cullen… Cullen. I am not a demon. I am not an illusion. I am real. We all are."

"No! You can't be real! She can't be here, she's far away, safe from all this, she has to be… Don't talk to me! Don't touch me! Now begone!" He shut his eyes wide and crossed his hands in front of him, as in prayer.

Iola just snapped her tongue, a sound so familiar to the templar that he raised his head and watched in awe, how all of them were still there.

"But- this always worked before… it's… it's really you, isn't it? You're Iola."

The mage nodded. As soon as he got this confirmation, Cullen's gaze hardened, as if he was angry with her for actually being there, or for taking part in his previous misfortunes, even if it wasn't really her. "You can't blame me for being cautious. The voices… the images… they were so real…" He said, getting up.

Iola opened her mouth and closed it again, slightly confused. The tone of his voice had completely changed. It was a tone she'd never heard on him, harsh, distant… hateful.

"Why are you here anyway? How did you survive?" He continued.

"I… We came here looking for help and…" She didn't really know how to explain the situation.

Alistair helped her, though. "We ended up being the ones helping, instead."

Iola nodded, finding strength in that comment. "We're going for Uldred. And we are trying to save the First Enchanter too, where are they?"

"What?! No… You can't save them! You must kill them all. We don't know how many of them have been turned already!"

"Turn into what? What are you talking about?"

"The blood mages… they turned the other mages in abominations and they caged us templars like animals… tortured us… I am the only ne left."

"We'll stop this, tell us, please, where are they?"

Ser Cullen shivered. "They are in the Harrowing chamber… the sounds that have been coming from there… You must kill them."

"Uldred will answer for this."

"Not just Uldred, everyone! You can't tell maleficarum by sight! To make sure this horror never happens again… this madness… you must kill them all."

"There are innocent mages in there!"

"You don't know that. They probably are thralls of the blood mages now."

"We will save every mage that can be saved."

He shook his head. "And to think I once thought we were too hard on you…"

Iola slammed her hand against the energy field. "How dare you! Do you think only templars died here?! You're not the only one who's lost some friends! I've been through too much to have you treat me like this! Hypocrite!"

"I am the hypocrite? Me? You refuse to see the faults on your own kind! No one should have that much power!"

"You're starting to sound like Emeric!"

"Children!" Wynne cut them off, clearly feeling that the conversation was escalating from professional to personal and that wasn't wise given the state of shock both templar and mage were. They both looked at the senior mage, Iola a bit ashamed of herself, Cullen angrier than ever, but calm now.

"Ser Cullen, you must understand that we need to know what's going on first. You said they were in the Harrowing chamber, if when we get there, Uldred has already turned Irving and the others, we will have no choice but to kill them, but if they've not surrendered…"

"Then go." The templar barked. "I'm in no position to stop you, as you can see."

Iola snapped her tongue again, this made the templar shiver. Leliana was a bit more understanding.

"Perhaps we could figure something out and free you." The redhead offered. Cullen shook his head.

"I believe that once Uldred is dead, this barrier will fade away. No need to worry about me now."

"Then we must hurry." Wynne said, and started to make her way to the stairs. Leliana followed her, and Gorim. Iola lingered for a few seconds in front of Cullen, maybe trying to make peace. Alistair watched them silently.

"I want to save them if I can." She muttered. "I don't want to lose more friends either."

He shook his head. "No one ever listens…"

"Ser Cullen-"

"Maker turn his gaze on you, I hope your compassion hasn't doomed us all."

* * *

Uldred had always thought he was particularly good at making a first impression or a great entrance. He did things big, not vulgar, not common; big, surprising and great. He certainly had put up a show for when the group led by the wardens stepped into the Harrowing chamber: a mage turned into an abomination right in front of their eyes. The smell of burnt flesh and spirit magic was so strong, the sight of lightning covering bone and blood, and then the human form melting, shrinking and losing its form and turning into a great mass of brown sinew. After that, the creature growled and strange silence fell in the room.

Uldred had noticed them, of course, but why interrupt the ritual when he could make them see? He could greet them once he was finished impressing his guests.

"Look who's come back. Irving's star pupil and foster granddaughter… and Wynne, of course. I can't say I'm really happy to see you."

"Well that's a shame." Iola heard Alistair mutter.

Uldred either didn't hear him or he ignored him. "I'm upset. The fact that you are here means that you've probably had to slaughter my… lackeys." Nice word for the people who did all the dirty work.

Iola snapped her tongue. "We didn't came to talk."

"And why not? I, for one, am trying to have a civil conversation."

They stared at him in disbelief. What kind of game was he playing? Either he had gone mad, or he was an abomination himself, which seemed probable.

"No civil conversation will save you from what you've done, Uldred!" Wynne said.

"Uldred? Haha. He's gone, my dear Wynne. I am Uldred, and not yet Uldred. I'm something much more greater… I guess you're right then, Uldred has not survived what we've done… but it was a small price to pay for the gift I offered… and the one I will offer you."

Well, that he had a demon inside was beyond clear now, Iola could see it, that also made him ten times more powerful than the old Uldred, she knew that much. Threatens did not win fights, but planning did, so maybe if he kept him talking, given that he seemed like the sound of his own voice very much, maybe they could think of something. Iola looked up at Alistair, biting her lip. _What would Gudrun do?_ But Gudrun wasn't used to mages. This was their call; the mage and the templar had to finish that.

Uldred then turned to someone behind him; there were three other mages there, and it seemed they hadn't submitted yet. Wynne recognized them all, Iola one of them.

"Irving!" The senior mage cried. "What have you done to him?"

Uldred chuckled. "Oh yes… Irving… I thought he was already falling… no matter, he will soon. Don't you want to say hello to Wynne and your precious little Amell?"

The First Encahnteer was in a terrible state, much like Cullen himself, only paler and all covered in blood. Iola wondered if it was his or… He was on his knees, his eyes barely open, and his beard and hair were all torn and burnt in places.

"Kill… him… you must… He wants to… army of abominations… the templars… won't hold…"

"Irving!"

"You're a sly little fox, Irving, telling on me like that. But it doesn't matter, we will settle this soon, and they will become a part of my plan. Whether they like it or not. Amell included! The new order will take the place of the old one in this world!"

"If you think we'll submit…" Wynne gritted his teeth.

Uldred dismissed her words with a gesture. "It doesn't matter if you submit or not, I will have my way."

Iola looked at Alistair again and mouthed the word 'dispell', when he nodded, she turned to face Uldred again. "This chat is pointless." She said.

"Indeed."

Uldred let out one last cackle that sounded more like a choking sound before he gave up his body and transformed into the demon inside him. A big, dark thing with claws and horns, something that looked more like a giant stone beetle than anything else, but a deadly one, nonetheless.

Alistair used the last of his powers and that gave them time. The abominations stood there for a few seconds, powerless, while Wynne conjured an earthquake and Iola a mind blast. Leliana tried to focus on Uldred from afar, shooting her arrows, moving constantly. He –or it- went for her and Gorim jumped to its leg, biting it.

"Iola! The litany, now!" Wynne shouted. Iola jumped far from the fight and read the chant. A blast of white energy bashed their enemies for a moment. It was in that moment when they noticed their heads clearer. Maker, the mind domination had started so subtle, like just a slight dizziness, that they hadn't even noticed it.

Uldred attacked Wynne, Iola tried to protect her by freezing the monster but he was too powerful to be more than a bit slowed down by that. Gorim distracted him though, enough time for Wynne to escape, but Uldred threw him against a wall. Iola cried, one of the abominations approached her, she hit it with her staff right in the head. The tip of an arrow came out of its throat. Two were already down; there was only Uldred and another abomination left.

Alistair was sweating, trying to avoid Uldred's attacks, growing tired. Iola turned to them, trying to figure out a spell to help him one the remaining abomination did something she wasn't expecting. It threw a fireball at them. It knocked her down, along with Wynne and Leliana, and the worst part was that she was facing the flames when they came. She tried to lift a barrier and felt her arms burning, she tried to protect her eyes and felt her chin burning.

She didn't see the abomination die; how Gorim had jumped towards it and tear its face and throat apart, how Leliana had been the first one to recover, almost unharmed and sent three arrows through its chest. Iola dropped her staff, it hurt to hold it. She opened her eyes slowly when she realized they were unharmed and concentrated all her strength in one last ice spell. This time, the giant monster wasn't strong enough to resist, and it froze.

Wynne didn't need anyone to tell her what to do. She used the stone fist spell against Uldred and the great figure shattered into dozens of pieces.

Iola looked down at her hands. She could see the flesh.

* * *

"Stay still, Amell." Wynne chastised her as she applied a healing poultice to her arms and jaw. Iola couldn't complain; at that point, even talking hurt. Alistair was helping the First Enchanter up and Leliana was fussing over Gorim.

"I could use some magic to make this less painful… but I'm already weary, and as you may recall, we still have Ylena downstairs. You'll be fine with this though…"

Iola shot Wynne a questioning look.

"This is magical fire… you might get a scar in the places where the burning was worst."

"Hnnn…"

Wynne sighed. "Probably your left hand, Iola, and maybe… "

"Hnnn!"

"Maybe the jaw, though I'm not sure about that."

It was very little what she needed to panic, a scar, a simple scar could do the job, but Iola appealed to her sense of logic. What did she say when Alistair told them the truth about the Grey Wardens? 30 years was a reasonable price to pay to avoid tranquility or Aeonar.

A scar was_… a scar is… it is, Iola, it is a reasonable price to pay for Irving's and Ylena's lives,_ and all the other surviving mages.

"I am so sorry you all had to face this on your own…" The tired voice of the First Enchanter dropped into her ear as he approached her, helped by the other warden and the mage. "Especially you, Iola. Since your Harrowing it's all being trials, test after test. Your fellow warden has explained me the situation… I can't believe what's happened here, and I can't believe it had to be you wardens… and Wynne, of course, who fixed it."

"Irving," Wynne intervened. "I'm sorry to interrupt you but we have no time to lose, Gregoir is already waiting for the Right of Annulment."

"Dear Maker. Let's go then. You'll have to help me with those stairs, young man… Cursed whoever insisted the Circle be housed in a tower…"

When they came out of the room, they found Cullen standing guard at the bottom of the stairs, sword ready to strike. Alistair immediately positioned himself between the templar and the mages, and the two men glared at each other for at least three seconds before anyone else could react.

"Uldred is dead." Cullen said, finally.

"He is." Irving answered, patiently.

"But you're alive."

"I am. Shall we move on, ser Cullen? We must speak to the Kinght-Commander at once, if we delay, the consequences could be terrible…"

"Maybe I should-"

"Don't." Alistair tightened the grip on the hilt of his sword, and took a slow step forward. No one dared to move, the mages didn't want to risk another fight… then Leliana gracefully slipped under Alistair's arm and approached the templar. The tone of voice she used was sweet and soothing, and there was something slightly unnatural with it.

"Come on now, ser templar. I know you have your reasons to be suspicious, and that you are weary, but come on." She gave him the smallest smile, a bit sad, one could say. "We just want to go downstairs, everything else can be decided there."

Cullen wasn't stupid either. He knew that if he decided to attack, four mages, a mabari and that sweet and beautiful woman would hold the other man's back. He was standing alone. The thought gave him some pause; those people looked tired and sad, they had the face of someone who has lost too much… Including Amell. He put down his weapon and made way for them, following them along the empty corridors, watched very closely by the blonde man.

* * *

Ylena was already awake when they reached the chamber where they had fought the sloth demon, but at first they didn't notice. She had dragged herself all the way to Niall's body and was lying beside him, clutching his sleeve, her tiny form shaken by silent sobs.

Iola and Wynne knelt beside her and the senior enchanter began to work on her while Iola tried to soothe her. The others looked for familiar faces among the dead bodies. Cullen closed the eyes of his two fallen friends and whispered his last goodbyes. He didn't ask how they had died, nor did he dare to make any accusations, for he still felt Alistair's gaze in the back of his neck. Ser Cullen watched the recovery of Ylena twitching his lips now and then, avoiding Iola's gaze at all costs. He didn't know what he felt now; he didn't know if he hated to see her hurt, or to just see her.

The group finally abandoned the room in a row of pairs. Iola and Senior Enchanter Wynne were first. Ylena and the other surviving mage followed them. After those two, Alistair helped the First Enchanter down stairs, and constantly turned his gaze towards the templar, he seemed mad at him for some reason. Cullen walked with Leliana, the one that he found most welcoming and less threatening and less painful to endure. Gorim brought up the rear.

The door opened with a loud metallic sound that could very well be the sound of the Archdemon grinding its teeth. On the other side, a row of Templars awaited with their shields up and theirs swords shining under the dim light of lamps. Knight-Commander Gregoir made his way through them at te sight of the First Enchanter.

"Maker's breath! I never thought I would see you alive again!"

Irving approached him –and by default, so did Alistair- and reached out a hand in a sign of peace. "It is over Gregoir, Uldred is dead."

Gregoir's gaze went from irving to Wynne, and then to Iola and her still healing burnt arms. The warden nodded. Cullen came suddenly out of his mutism and strode quickly towards the Knight-Commander, positioning himself between him and Irving.

"Uldred tortured these mages hoping to break their wills and turned them into abominations. We don't know how many of them have turned." It was his trauma speaking, Iola knew that, but it still made her angry.

"What? Don't be ridiculous!" irving sounded as tired as he was outraged.

Cullen tried to defend himself. "Of course he'll say that, he might be a blood-mage!" He shivered. "Don't you know what they did? I won't let this happen again!"

"Hhnnn!"

Luckily, the Knight-Commander was having none of that; he'd spent his life among mages and knew that abominations usually didn't need the help of a templar to walk. "I am the Knight-Commander here, not you. I will accept Irving's assurance that all is well."

Cullen wasn't giving up yet. "But they may have demons within! Lying dormant… lying in wait!"

"Hnnn!"

"Enough! I have already made my decision." Gregoir turned then to face Iola. "You let a maleficarum escape, and believe if I tell you that I wasn't sure about this when I let you into the Tower again…"

"Gregoir, Amell has- and not just her, her companions too, have proven themselves wo-"

"Will you let me finish, Senior Enchanter? She's a Grey Warden now, and out of my reach. But it doesn't'matter now, because you are right." He looked at the wardens again. "You brought the First Enchanter back alive, along with the surviving tranquil and mages and even one of my own templars," he said "I may or may not have misjudged your actions that day when you left the Tower, Amell, but I will put that in the past. I want to thank you for this, thank you and your companions."

Iola would have smiled if it had been less painful. She stared at Gregoir eyes wide open before making the effort to answer. "Eeng you, Aight-Ovander." Well that was a situation she'd never imagined herself into, but it wasn't so surprising after all. Knight-Commander Gregoir was a sensible man.

Alistair coughed softly. "There's still the matter of the Darkspawn… and Connor." Iola encouraged him to keep going with a pleading look. "Do we have your word that Circle will aid us against the Blight?"

Irving chuckled. "After all those stairs, warden, I'd say yes."

* * *

**Yeeeeeeeeeee! We're leaving the tower soon! Hahaha I bet you couldn't wait for it xD Well, some Cullen here for the fans, though not very pretty, and some mage templar conflict.**

**I hope you enjoy it!**


	17. Interlude 3: Calenhad churning night

**Yes, little Interlude because you know how much I love interludes.**

* * *

The Calenhad was a big lake, and the moon poured its light all over it like milk in a bowl. Somehow, it reminded him of the churning days at the castle, Spark all dotted in white and gold. Alistair sighed. They were going back to Redcliff across the lake with a bunch of mages and templars, among which were Ylena, Senior Enchanter Wynne and the First Enchanter himself. Alistair found that Irving had a strange sense of humor… and he liked that. Other thing he liked was that Iola's wounds seemed to have healed completely now, though they had left scars. He had been very worried when he saw that fireball explode right in front of her, and after that, when she could barely talk… She could talk now, but apparently she didn't feel like it.

She was sitting on the deck, just like himself, watching the night over the lake. Or examining her hair in that precise moment. They were all still tired and dirty after what happened at the tower. They begged for a short nap but that was all they got; they knew time was against them.

Iola unmade the braid and a whole strand of hair fell down. That seemed to upset her a great deal, maybe it just triggered something, because Alistair heard her mutter "Fuck!" and then, all of a sudden, she started crying. At first he didn't realize, but then she started to sniff louder and louder, and her shoulders shook now and then. Alistair had thought about leaving her some space, some time, but at the present moment, he couldn't bring himself to just leave her alone.

Iola heard someone approaching and quickly wiped the tears off her cheeks.

"Uhmm…" He was going to ask her if she was alright, but that seemed like a stupid question. _Damn, why is this so hard_? "Hello."

"Hello Alistair." She didn't shrink this time when he sat beside her, and he noticed.

"I… uh… do you need to talk?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, I really don't know."

A cloud covered the moon, and it was a cloud so dark that it reminded Alistair of that day of the week the carts used to bring the coal for the chantry. "Do you… do you want me to go?"

Iola thought her answer for a second; she looked down at the fallen strand of hair, at the scar in her left hand, she touched the one in her jaw. "Only if you don't want to be here."

"I want to be here, but that's… that's only if you want me to be here, because if not I don't want to be here because I don't want to bother you, and now I guess I'm bothering you, aren't I? I'm sorry maybe I should- I should just shut up."

"No." She bit her lip. "It's me who's sorry. I'm sorry for how I treated you back there when all you did was help and… and protect me… again. Why are you always doing that? Yes I know, we've got each other's backs, but still I think I was… a bit unfair with you up there and I'm sorry about that."

Alistair felt the sudden need of hugging her, and it made him feel powerless that he couldn't just raise his shield above her and protect her from all the memories. "You've got nothing to be sorry about." He answered, as soft as he could. "Do you even remember me after Ostagar? I could barely put on my boots without breaking down and you went all the way up that tower and rescued the First Enchanter, I think you deserved the right to be a little moody."

Iola made a strange sound and whether it was a chuckle or a sob or both, Alistair could not tell. The whole speech must've made her feel better though, because after a while she leaned on him a bit. It felt strangely different from when it was him trying to comfort her; patting her back or rubbing her shoulder… to have her actively seeking comfort made him nervous for some reason, and yet it felt… nice. He couldn't find a better word right then.

"It's not just that, I… I hated you for while there…" _And then she blows it_. Alistair winced and turned to look at her, searching her eyes.

"You…? Really?" He looked more sad than offended. "I- it was because of my templar training, isn't it? I knew you never felt particularly comfortable around me but-"

"I feel comfortable around you. If I didn't I wouldn't try to fight the discomfort."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Well it does to me." She snapped her tongue. It was becoming kind of a familiar sound.

They fell silent for a moment, and this time it was Alistair who was avoiding eye contact.

"I didn't really hate you, I was just… so angry, and… scared… and I had to blame it on someone and I blamed Uldred but it was not enough so I blamed the templars like I've always done, and you were there, and I knew you had been trained like one and I guess… I just lost it. I'm sorry."

He didn't answer, didn't know what to say.

"I know what you're thinking. I know there are bad templars an good templars, because they are just people;" That was not what he was thinking at all but he let her go on. "good men like ser Alec-" She stopped for a second. "and ser Cullen."

"Even if that ser Cullen turned out to be a jerk?" He didn't know why that line came out so bitter. It made him feel a bit embarrassed.

Iola shook her head, just glad that he talked to her. "He's not a jerk, he was… traumatized, after all he went through… I can't really blame him. Maybe he had a point after all. I see it now."

Alistair gave her a questioning look; there was another subject pushing its way out of his mouth, but he fought it. It was certainly not the moment to go and pry on her relationship with that templar, no matter how intense his curiosity was.

"We… are dangerous." She continued. "We have to be able to control ourselves all the time. Power is… consuming, it requires self-discipline. I get that. Cullen was right about that… it was the mages who turned the Tower into a butchery… but on the other hand… half of those mages would have never turned on blood magic or rebelled if everyone treated us like people. People, not beasts, not monsters. Do you know how many of them barely dared to touch us? Like we carried some kind of contagious disease? Do you know how many of them touched too much? Those didn't treat us like monsters but like cattle; they were the masters and we couldn't disobey because if a templar screams 'blood-mage' you have to be the luckiest bastard alive to get out of that mess. Do you get me?"

Yes, yes he did. Their lives hadn't been so different, even if they had been opposite. Alistair nodded, and his expression softened. He got her. Completely. "I do." He answered.

Iola's eyes lingered in Alistair's recently broken nose for a while and then went back to the strand of hair on the floor. "Are you mad at me?"

"Mad at you? Maker, no."

"You… you don't hate me, do you?"

"Me? How could I?"

She offered him a sad smile and leaned against his shoulder again. Now that was right. He felt completely at ease, as if every problem was very far away, and they had made peace forever. Except maybe for one tiny little detail that still bugged him, only Andraste knew why.

"I'm sorry about what happened with your…" Her what? That was what he was trying to find out. "… your friend, the templar. Or was it more like… uh…" He trailed off. Andraste's breakfast spoon, why was that so hard?

"Well… I hope… I hope he gets over it, I know it must've been hard." _Get over what? His blatant feelings for you or the deaths of his friends?_

"Well you were… I mean- were you two…? You know." Maker he felt like an idiot, and he didn't even know why he needed that information, why did he even **wanted** that piece of information. It really wasn't any of his bussiness.

"We- what?" It took her at least three seconds to really get Alistair's question, her mind wasn't really expecting that kind of question after… everything that had happened. "Ah… no. Of course not, you heard him."

Yes he could remember;_ the only thing I've ever wanted and could never…_

"But you…" _Wanted it? Him?_ "…knew?"

"Ac-actually I pretended I didn't know." Iola scratched her cheek. She seemed a little embarrassed. "I liked how well he treated me and my friends and I really didn't want to risk that, you know, there were plenty of snobbish stupid templars around." Yes she had taken advantage of that, in a way, but it was only the most sensible thing to do. She wasn't hurting anyone. She'd never been particularly interested in ser Cullen; sure, he was handsome and nice and all, but it wasn't enough to put that nice, slightly distant relationship in danger.

Alistair nodded sagely. From what he could understand from her answer, she'd never liked that Cullen enough –at least- to act on it and that made him feel a lot better. It made him feel a bit ashamed of himself, though, why did he care, anyway?

He realized then that Iola had picked up the fallen strand of burnt hair and was playing with it with a scowl on her face, he saw her eyes glittering again with tears but it lasted only a second.

"I'm… about what happened…"

She suddenly looked up at him, all serious, and held the strand of hair in front of her. "Just…" She touched her jaw, the burnt bit. "How horrible do I look?"

_You'd never look horrible, even if you tried. What? Where did that come from? Dammit, Alistair, what's wrong with you?_

"You don't look horrible… well maybe a little bloody with all those bits of abomination in your clothes, and the hairstyle is a bit… risky, but overall you're fine."

Iola snorted. "My scar, Alistair."

"My broken nose?"

She smirked. "Broken noses are manly."

"Are they? Really?" Thank the Maker for that coal black cloud covering all that moonlight.

"Burns are not…, be serious this time, is it really bad?"

Alistair shook his head. "Bravery doesn't look bad. Never."

Iola groaned. "So it's terrible, isn't it? Nice try though…"

"Ah…" Oh blast, he'd done exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do. "No, that's not what I meant! I mean… yes you are brave, but that doesn't mean- look you're fine, I can barely even see the scar, you're great, I only wanted to say…"

And then, she laughed, it wasn't a particularly loud or merry laugh, but it was one, nonetheless, genuine, and considering all that had happened, and all what she'd been going through, Alistair considered that laugh like one of his greatest victories.

* * *

**YES I DID THE THING. AND I'M NOT EVEN SORRY. MUAHAHAHAHA.**

**Ok, now let's be serious. This happened... I honestly don't know how it happened but when I realized how long it was going to be I already liked it too much so there you go. If ANYONE was wondering if there was something going on between these two there you have it. I hope it doesn't look too rush, I like to think don't know what's happening yet. **

**Next chapter we'll reuinte the gang, I promise!**

**Battle scars/injuries so far. A contest between wardens-**

**Gudrun: That sodding knee that just doesn't seem to work like it used to before Ostagar.**

**Miach: The tip of his right ear lost fighting a revenant. Dareth Shiral, little piece of flesh.**

**Alistair: Broken nose by tireless undead (and I think it won't be the last time)**

**Iola: Those nice burns some abominations gave her.**


	18. Demon-children for beginners Part 2

**Good gods! I'm so sorry for the wait! It's been a really long time I know! Exams, and yes, Mass Effect, are to blame. This chapter is short, but I wanted to update with something and this is what I was happy with so there you go. Thanks to the reviewers as always :***

* * *

Miach had been waiting at the docks all morning, far away from the commotion at the castle, in contact with the wind and the sky, when he finally saw the ship coming. He jumped from his sitting position and whistled as loud as he could. Young Dale appeared then, just like a trained puppy.  
"See that?" Miach said, grabbing his shoulder. "You think you could go up to the castle and tell Gudrun?" The boy nodded and ran through the town and up the slope as fast as he could. Miach grabbed his boots and put them on again, a grin spreading across his features. Someone chuckled behind him.

"You're not thinking about bringing the child with us, are you? I don't need another dog running around and messing with my things."  
He turned around and saw Morrigan. Miach was sure in normal circumstances he would've heard her approaching, so his best guess was ancient magic.

"Andaran'atishan, shapeshifter."

Morrigan chuckled again. "Did you noticed I was here?"

Miach shrugged, the arrival of the ship from Kinloch Hold had fallen to a second place. "I didn't see any dogs."

"I was not a dog." Morrigan said, trying to hide a smirk. Miach didn't notice, he scratched his chin, thinking.

"A… a bird then? I believe I heard the rumor of wings a while ago."

In his voice it sounded so natural, so innocent, what she did. Like they were talking about anything but ancient magic. "You are… observant."

She seemed surprised, widening her eyes for a moment and then studying Miach intently. He blinked. He was trying to picture Morrigan as a raven or a blackbird, or even a falcon, and trying to recall seeing something similar around while he had been outside.  
A strange thought came to him; how long had she been there? Had she been watching the lake, waiting for Iola and the rest? Or had she been watching… him?

He couldn't think about it any longer, for the ship finally reached the docks and Gorim the mabari jumped out of it, happy to have firm ground under his feet, and anxious to see his mistress again. He barked and jumped happily around the elf.  
And tired and dirty bunch of mages and templars followed out of the ship. There was even an elf among them; a short, brown girl, that was shaking with every step. Miach searched Iola and the rest of his companions among the crew, Alistair saw him and walked towards them with a grim expression in his face. Even Morrigan seemed curious.

"What's wrong? Where's Iola?" Miach asked, looking for her above the mages and Templars heads. Alistair put a hand on his shoulder.

"There's been trouble at the tower. Bad… things happened. A lot of people died… I think…"

"Of course, 'twas too much to ask that things went smoothly with you in charge, Alistair."

He scowled. "I wasn't in charge."

"Creators, Alistair! Is Iola-?"  
The sentence died in his lips, as he looked above the warrior's shoulder and saw their friend speaking to an elven girl in circle robes. A great flush of relief ran through him as he realized none of his companions had been badly hurt… or worse. He stepped forward, ready to greet her but thinking twice, he returned his attention to Alistair.

"So… what happened?"

"Demons, lots of them. Abominations. Blood mages. Many mages and Templars died, friends of her, she…" Alistair frowned, just a bit, "she killed some of them. Self defense of course…"

Miach snorted. "Great. Just great." He left the other two and dived between the mages to reach his friend. Alistair followed him. He really didn't want to spend a single second alone with Morrigan. He watched the elf and the mage entangled themselves in a long hug and caught himself noticing how close was Iola's relationship with Miach.

* * *

Gudrun sighed. "Nothing is ever simple, is it?" Stone, she was so tired. So so tired. It seemed like every problem added to the pack of stones in her back, and even if the particular issue of the Circle incident was fortunately behind them, the weight was still there. Mages lost, templars lost, forces lost, teammate traumatized. Great. Just great. And there was still the demon child.  
Of course, when they parted, Iola had volunteered to end the demon's hold on Connor, but now not only she seemed reluctant, but also Alistair and Leliana made pretty clear that they weren't happy with the idea of her returning to the Fade. Returning? What in the name of the Ancestors happened in that tower?  
Gudrun rubbed her forehead. "Well, someone has to go! We have plenty of mages here!"  
"I can still go." Iola said, but she didn't sound convinced.  
"No!" Alistair croaked.  
Leliana grabbed Iola's shoulder. "No way we're letting you into that horrible place so soon!"  
Gudrun sighed again. "Well, Morrigan, you are a very capable-"  
"No way." Iola stepped forward, "We're not going to ask Morrigan to do this. She said she didn't like it and I'm not letting you force her in when I'm still here, perfectly capable of handling a-"  
"A what? A simple desire demon?" A fifth voice added its weary ring to the conversation the wardens and their companions had been having in their little private corner of the main hall. It was Irving. First Encahnter Irving. Looking slightly better than he did in the Harrowing chamber under Uldred's spells.  
"First Enchanter…"  
"Please Iola, you are no longer an apprentice, nor a circle mage, you can call me Irving now." His lips drew a tender smile and Iola responded in a similar manner.  
"Listen warden, you've been through a lot already, to put yourself in unnecessary danger again."  
"I don't see how that's unnecessary, someone has to do it."  
Irving was leaning a part of his weight on his staff, but it didn't make him look old when he said. "That's why I'm doing it. I will go into the Fade and destroy the demon."  
Iola gave the First Enchanter an utterly horrified look. Was the man who'd been trapped in a room surrounded by abominations by Maker knew how long, volunteering to enter the Fade again and take down a desire demon, no less, completely alone? Was he? Or was she just so deprived of sleep that she had begun to imagine things. "First En- Irving…" Maker that was weird, "That's… ridiculous. After all you've been through… no. Absolutely not. You need some sleep, some rest no… not another battle."  
Irving chuckled and put a hand on his former apprentice's shoulder. "Iola, your concern is touching, but listen here. There is a Blight going on, and only four Grey Wardens in all Ferelden to battle it. Your quest is already a risk after another, and I won't let the order lose one of you in such a cheap way. Now, I have no doubt you are very capable of performing this task, but should an error occur… better and old man like me than you." He said the last few words in a tone so soft that made Iola clench her jaw, he sounded almost tender, at least until he continued. "There are others in the Circle that can take my place if I don't come back… but who's going to take your place, warden? The world needs you more than it needs me right now."  
Gudrun looked up at him and nodded. "The old man's right. We don't have many spare wardens right now… if avoiding danger is possible, we will avoid it."  
"But-"  
"It's decided." And she limped away before letting her say anything else. Everyone seemed pleased with the outcome. Even Morrigan, for some reason. Miach patted Iola's back. "Come on now, magey, the leader has spoken." Iola couldn't help but smile. Magey. What a beautiful tribute to Daveth. "I hate it when she does that." Iola chuckled.  
"What? Make a decision and then walk away so you can't argue? It's a great tactic, if you ask me." Alistair answered.  
Morrigan snorted. "No one was asking you anything."


	19. Foster families for beginners

Jowan was under strict vigilance, but he helped the mages set for the ritual, and so did Iola and Ylena, despite of the worried looks they were getting from a certain orlesian minstrel and her friend the blonde ex templar.

Morrigan, seeing too many Templars in the same room for her liking, quickly slipped away from the room. Miach followed her with his gaze but didn't actually follow, worried as he was for that friend of his that was performing a complicated and probably exhausting ritual.

He watched silently as Irving stepped inside the circle formed by the other mages, and took a sip of the raw lyrium they were offering. One of the templars was there just in time to catch him when he fell, apparently unconscious, and let the frail form of the old man rest on the floor.

Gudrun had not been paying as much attention to Irving and the mages as to the other people in the room. She noticed the sick look on Alistair's face, she noticed how Leliana patted his shoulder. She noticed how Iola tried desperately not to look at Irving, and how she focused her gaze in another elderly mage. She also noticed lady Isolde sobbing on Teagan's arm, and how ser Perth was looking at her. Like someone had just ripped his guts out.

For a while, nothing happened. Gorim emited low sad howls now and then but aside from that no one said anything. At some point, the templars started to give each other significant looks, and even with her reduced experience, Gudrun guessed that couldn't mean anything good. The First Encahnter's nap was probably taking too long for their liking. When one of them reached for the hilt of his sword, Gudrun stepped forward. "Let's not jump into conclusions just yet, shall we? Give the old man some credit."

She heard Miach's nervous snort behind her. Ancestors, if that whole thing didn't end soon, she'd have him cackling right next to her ear. Sometimes Gudrun wished Miach had some other way to cope with stress.

"This is not your first Harrowing, ser Liam." The elderly mage Iola was looking at said, "You know it can take hours."

"Hours?!" Miach exclaimed. "I'd better go find something to eat… Sten, are you coming?"

The huge qunari just produced a low grunt and followed to elf out of the room. Leliana chose that moment to sit on the floor, and so did Alistair, who didn't want to give up his last source of comfort. Gudrun stood still, just petting Gorim's head now and then.

* * *

Irving leaned against his staff and listened to the demon's rant about his desires. Some of the things it showed him were painful to watch; when the fabric of the Fade vanished and he was for a moment back at his father's home, or standing right beside Wynne, holding hands, congratulating themselves on the achievement of a new liberated Circle. It told him about someone he thought was lost to him forever.

There was temptation. But Temptations was always a thing, every single night of sleep, and Irving had learned to live with what he couldn't get.

"Don't waste your breath, demon." He said, "I'm an old man, I don't have many desires left, only regrets. If there's something you cannot do is change the past, so don't even try."

The creature snickered. "What amuses me most about mortals, is that you believe that age gives you everything or takes everything from you, when it's not at all like that. Young and old have fallen into my kind's hands the same way. It is truly unbelievable that you need us to understand that an old man can want things with just as much passion as a young boy."

It stepped closer to him, less sensual and more friendly, more familiar. "For example, let's talk about Iola. How could you not see that coming? The girl you practically raised would've never betrayed her friends, so you should've known it would end like that. You could've done something. Now she's stuck with the wardens. What a fate."

"It could've been worse. I thank Duncan for that."

"Of course, of course, I'm not trying to steal anybody's merit, but you see, I can _fix_ it. For real. If you were to let me, hypothetically, of course, if you were to let me, I could pull her back from the wardens and into the Circle again. Of course, it would be a new Circle, the one that you would build, free and just, not a prison. And you could do this. You, Irving. Believe me, it's in you… with a little help."

And for a moment, just a second, a fraction of a second, the blink of the grasshopper in the grass, Irving believed. He saw it for a second; what could still be, the doors of the Tower wide open, the mages coming and going, some of the long lost returning once again, for the Circle was their home…

The vision was a proof of how much the entire ordeal with Uldred had exhausted him, how great his desire really was, how weak his mind and sould were after so many losses. _All it takes is one slip. Close your eyes for a second, and if you let go… everything will be lost._ That was Wynne's voice, a piece of a memory, she was admonishing a student… one of those who left and never returned… one of those for whom the Tower was little more than a cage with… with… _The Tower is just a cage with books and chamber pots!_

That was his own voice, from ages ago! He was young then… and ready to believe he could change everything, and now it was possible, now he could, if only he reached out a hand… and accepted his end of th-

_All it takes is one slip, Anders! Focus!_

Irving snapped his eyes open, and the hand that had been moving towards the demon without him even noticing, glowed with a purple light.

Irving had always liked lightning magic; it was effective and flashy.

_"__Show off!"_ A young Wynne laughed in his memories. Yes he liked to make his demonstrations colourful and he didn't think it was a sign of weakness, as long as efficiency was first. He remembered his lightning skills had very much impressed this young kid under Wynne's tutelage with an uncommon ability to bring every hurt animal into the Tower to rescue, especially cats. He had seen Iola snapping her tongue at the kid when he tried to imitate the First Encahnter.

The blast of electricity that came from him was ten times stronger in the Fade, and it knocked down the demon, taken by surprise. Irving threw another wave of elemental magic, fire this time, before the thing could recover.

Desire was not enough. His sin had always been pride.

Well, wasn't it fortunate that there wasn't a pride demon around to catch a glimpse of his vanity when he delivered the killing blow to the creature with his staff?

_Back home at last… I hope the arlessa has a spare bed…_

Iola was probably the first person that noticed the First Enchanter's eyelashes flickering. A perfect timing, given that one of the Templars had already his blade out and preparing for the worst. Gudrun had been approaching cautiously with every intention to stop him if needed.

That wasn't the case. Irving opened his eyes, the Templars asked him a couple of questions, the ritual finished and Iola and Ylena helped him up.

"Is it dead? Is the child safe?" Teagan was the first who dared to ask the dreaded question.

"It is… the child should be free from its influence… I… need to sit down… Ah Maker, I can't believe I miss the stairs."

* * *

"First Encahnter?"

"What have I told you? It's Irving now for you."

Iola smiled shyly. "I'm sorry, It's kind of hard to get used to it. The arlessa sent some tea and… well, I bring it because I wanted to know how you were doing." That was an unnecessary explanation, no doubt she could go and ask about the well-being of her first mentor and protector without bringing tea as an excuse, although the beverage couldn't hurt, she thought.

"I am tired, but nothing some rest… and some tea can't cure. That's old age for you, Iola; everything seems taller, longer, stronger… and the stairs… oh Maker every step is a torture."

Iola wanted to laugh but the only thing that came was a shy smile, those words had brought a question to her lips. "And even so, you took the risk of facing a dangerous demon after days of torture. Anyone could've gone instead of you. Wynne could've gone… I could've gone. I would have."

The First Encahnter took a deep breath. His eyes closed for just a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "When you first came to the Tower, Iola, you were slightly older than some other apprentices, and you had known the love a family can give. It seemed logical to me at the time, that being the one whose loss was sharper and more painful, you were the one who needed a new family as soon as possible to replace the one left in Kirkwall."

Iola held her breath, sensing more than knowing what was coming up next.

"You were a bright child, good, curious. And I am an old man who's coming close to the end of his life."

Iola didn't bother to fill the silence, her voice would've sounded weird, choked. She remembered the first lesson she had with Irving; primal magic. Ice, her favourite. How they focused in cooling down a cup of tea first. Irving believed that one had to learn to be gentle before they could unleash destruction. Better to master the art of making icicles for the summer drinks before conjuring a blizzard. _That's how music is taught_, he used to say. Of course, there were times when the staff could spare a room for a student to go crazy if they wished to have a little downtime. Jowan and Iola had tried ice skating on the floor afterwards. It had been fun.

She caught Iriving's gaze through the haze of her own memories. "How do you think, child, I could've go on living if you had died to save me from getting tired? Iola, you have done more than what was required of you, and during your Harrowing, believe me if I say ser Cullen was not the only one about to go crazy." He said that with a knowing smile, and this time, out of the Tower and safe from the danger, Iola blushed. "So tell me, how could I put my own safety over my daugter's?"

Iola realized then that this was the second time she'd hugged Irving in 10 years.

* * *

Morrigan snorted at the news. "I wonder if our next quest will involve finding the last surviving griffon."

Miach laughed lightheartedly. "Or, maybe we will go to the Big City and knock door by door to see how everybody is doing."

Morrigan smiled, but shook her head. "You know your commander, Miach, you know she's not the type to go around helping cats down of trees."

"That's only because she gets confused about 'how trees work'" That got a genuine laugh out of the witch, and it even made Sten start paying attention to them, well, at least a bit. They were the last three remaining in the kitchen. The arlessa had assigned them actual rooms as a way of thanking them for their help, but neither Sten nor Miach were used to that kind of luxury, and therefore preferred to stay in the kitchen by the fire… and next to the food. Morrigan was just a night creature, she would go to bed eventually, but not quite yet, and in a rare exercise of socialization, she'd come down to the kitchen to discuss their next destinations with Miach (Sten mostly observed and listened, which was welcomed by her).

She acknowledged their need for allies, and maybe a base of operations, so Soldier's Peak was a reasonable course of action, but she still did not think going after a myth was a good idea, with all the other things they had to do. Still, Alistair had managed to convince Gudrun of the necessity of arl Eamon's help. Why the dwarf trusted that witless idiot so much, Morrigan would never understand, but they seemed to get along and there was nothing she could –or wanted- to do about it so...

Miach though… he was kind of childish, but smart, and very… aware, if that was one word that could fit her thoughts. She got up. "I'm going to sleep." She announced.

"As far as possible from the rest of us?" The elf quipped. Morrigan didn't bother to answer and walked out of the room.

* * *

Alistair was dragging himself towards his room after a long and pleasant chat with Teagan when, passing by Gudrun's room he stood witness of a scene that in other circumstances could've been considered normal, but past midnight and after days of hard work and fights, struck him as rather strange.

Four women were sitting together around a table, whispering to each other, giggling, even Gudrun. Well, maybe not the giggling part, but she wore a smirk on her lips. They were four: their leader, out of her armour, and oh how small she looked without all the metal and the leather and the blood; Leliana, with her hair strangely wrapped in a blanket, only wearing a slightly revealing nightshirt and talking, making faces, waving her arms; the elderly mage, Wynne, holding a cup of something warm between her hands, making her best effort not to laugh at the sight of the orlesian sister; and Iola, wet hair, amused smile, tapping the table with her hands as if following an inner rhythm. He stared at her for a while, admiring the change some good news and food could make over a person, how she looked even more… _whoa there, Theirin_. He caught a bit of the conversation –or the monologue-, as he made his best effort to try and understand why the whole thing surprised him so much: "… so I had to stay the whole night hidden under the bed! Listening to them! That bitch… she couldn't even make me the favour of giving me time to leave. Of course, when they fell asleep, I took my necklace back."

"Ah… the passion of the early years of love… how can it get so… consuming?"

"Wow. I never thought I'd live to hear a sister say the word 'bitch'."

"So this necklace… was it fake or not in the end? You never said."

Wynne finally noticed him. "Good night, was there something you needed?"

The other three heads turned to look at him and Alistair felt the temperature of his cheeks and ears rising from happy and warm to utterly embarrassed. "I… yes, I mean, not really, I just happened to hear… eh… so yeah, Leliana, was the necklace fake?"

Gudrun rolled her eyes and Iola burst into laughter, Maker that felt good.

"Listening to private conversations, Alistair?" Laliana chastised him. "Didn't the Chantry told you that was wrong?"

"So is stealing by their standards." He quickly retorted.

Leliana shook her head and looked up at Wynne, smiling. "Don't worry, you'll get used to his terrible sense of humour." She said with a devilish smirk.

"Hey!... wait, get used?"

Gudrun nodded. "I figured I could use an extra pair of hands to take care of all of you." She answered, glaring at them in a way it left Alistair, Leliana and Iola feeling like 10 year olds.

* * *

**Wow! A new chapter! Incredible! I know, right? How awesome is this? I haven't forgotten, you see? I'm just painfully slow now hehehe**

**I invite you to guess who said which sentence after Leliana finishes her tale. A little personality game ;D**


	20. Voglio uscire!

"Hey Zev, Zev!"

His name followed him down one of the streets of the upper market. It took him a moment to place the voice in time and space, but he finally remembered who it was that was calling him. Zevran Arainai turned around, a sharp grin ready in his lips.

"Fiorella! Mia cara! It's been so long."

The girl approached him, smiling devilishly. She was human, but somewhat short, and had a very profitable mane of soft red hair. Zevran assessed her as he took her hands in his and planted a kiss on them.

"My dear, you look gorgeous. New clothes? New perfume? A more… natural style? I always said gold was your colour."

She playfuly nudged his shoulder. "I do look like a lady now, don't I? I always knew I had so much potential…"

Zevran had been training his social skills long enough to know when someone had big news. Fiorella and him hadn't seen each other in more than a year, but they had been thick as thieves as kids, and fortunately, she was too pretty for the madam to sell her off when she saw so much profit coming her way with a bit of training.

"I mean it dear, how have you gotten even more beautiful?"

The young prostitute grinned. "I followed the advice of one of my clients and got the hell out of that place. I freelance now."

"Freelance? How did you manage to save enough money to make the big jump?"

For the smile she was giving him, it was clear that she'd probably done a couple of jobs out of her area of expertise, stealing and blackmailing probably. Not that it was a big deal in Antiva City.

"You see… hard work pays off." She answered.

"Hard work, huh? How's your ass?"

"Fucking sore! But look at this!" She said, showing him a very tasteful earring with a single white pearl. "It was a _present_." She said, in hushed tones now, and excitement gleamed in her eyes.

That hair of hers had proven to be profitable indeed. That was quite the jump; from cheap whore on another woman's house, to respectable prostitute, even receiving presents. And all that because she _freelanced_?

"Watch yourself, dear, one of these days you may wake up demanding to be called _concubine_."

That made her laugh, and it must've been genuine, because it wasn't a laugh suited for pearl earrings and golden silk dresses, but for the fish market. "I might!"

They chatted for a little longer, catching up, trading gossips, hiding secrets from each other, and after a while Fiorella stated that she shouldn't be seen in such company, now that she had real earrings. Zevran laughed and sent her on her way, still mulling over what she'd said.

Freelancer. _Hmm._

* * *

Word arrived from Denerim that same afternoon. There was a contract open. A big one. Well paid. An enormous pile of trouble waiting for someone to stick their arms to their elbows in it. None of the seniors showed any interest in taking that one, even if it was the kind of contract that normally remained as their business. The rest of the brothers and sisters spent the rest of the day talking about it, some of them shockingly horrified, others mildly surprised.

No one alive in the order remembered the last time they had received a contract to kill Grey Wardens.

Zevran had heard tales about them, of course, but never thought much of them. After all, they were all old legends fit for children's bedtime stories, how much truth could be in them anyway? No one else seemed actually interested of brave enough to take the contract, and while he wasn't sure if it was worth the risk and the hard looks, he wasn't sure it wasn't either.

Besides, he would have to go to Ferelden… across the sea. Far away from the masters. **Very** far away. That thought set his wildest fantasies free. _Careful Zevran, for once try to think with logic_. Zevran chastised himself for even having those ideas. It was not the time.

He went to the tavern for dinner, as always, ready for the fish stew or whatever overly spiced dish Rietta had prepared for the day. Talisen and Airon were already there when he arrived, and already eating.

"Ah, Zevran, dai dai! You have to try tonight's stew, cozze e anguilla in umido. It's wonderful, I don't want to know what **else** is in there, but the fish is superb…"

Airon was another elven assassin who had a stomach so big Zevran could not understand where did he keep it. Every piece of any kind of food he could put his hands on, he ate. Something must be really consuming all his energy… His enthusiasm with the fish stew was proof of that, Talisen wasn't anywhere near as excited about it, he didn't seem repulsed either, which was probably a good sign.

"I take it it's edible?" Zevran asked cautiously.

Talisen shrugged. "Si."

Arainai sat and ordered another bowl of stew, ready to try the eel for himself, but he couldn't concentrate on the food for long. "So… what do you think?"

"Ma Zevran! I already told you this is amaz-"

"He's talking about the contract, idiota."

"Parvo ti."

The elf waited for the exchange of insults to end and glared at his colleagues. Talisen shook his head.

"Not worth it, that's what I say. Too far away, too much trouble. Stupid."

"Besides, there's darkspawn! I've heard it, it's true! Who kills wardens during a Blight? Popular knowledge."

Talisen shrugged again, letting the other one talk.

"Mages in May, good night, bad day. Never trust the fisherman with the biggest cod. Whores are better thieves than thieves. Don't kill Grey Wardens during a Blight. Everybody knows that."

"Why are you asking, anyway? Are you planning to take that one? It won't be easy."

Zevran smiled. "What's life without a a little challenge? Besides, I haven't decided, I'm just asking…" He leaned against the back of his chair, grabbed a tissue and started cleaning his nails. "Just thinking about all the possibilities."

"I can see the wheels working inside your brain, Zev. Don't overthink it. You suck at planning."

"Are you saying, buon uomo, that I should listen to my heart?"

Talisen laughed. "Stronzo! Your heart has gotten you into a great deal of trouble too!"

Making a pause between licking the sauce off his fingers and picking his teeth, Airon addressed Zevran too. "Your heart, heh, that was funny. No, Zev, you should listen to your gut, as always. Your gut, and I bet it tells you that it has anything to do with darkspawn, you should run away. Mine do."

Maybe he should really run away. Maybe that was the way. _Careful, Zevran, no planning, you suck at making plans._

* * *

Master Baia was a hard woman. She had only one eye, and the scar left by the knife that took the other one was very ugly. In contrast with all that hardness, there was her sweet voice. Her tone was so beautiful it made all kinds of stories believable. It had been to much for Zevran to resist when she had ordered to kill his friend, so he used his daggers. It was only after the body had grown cold that the spell broke, and Zevran had seen himself under a new light. Not pretty. He had the utmost respect for Baia though. She was a real talent. A master of the art.

She was studying him with an opaque look, which meant Zevran couldn't guess what was going through her mind in that moment. After he told her he was ready to accept the contract on the wardens.

She was surprised at least, the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes told him that. Surprised that anyone would want anything to do with that job. With every person he spoke to, Zevran got the impression that he was walking towards the edge of the cliff without even noticing. Too late to look back now.

"Well Zevran, there is no one else interested in this contract, and since you are more than capable of doing the job I see no reason not to let you go. But be warned; Grey Wardens are trouble. Whatever they do, wherever they go, death follows them like a lost puppy. Be careful, study your strategy, don't rush into action, don't underestimate the target, and always carry-"

"… an extra knife. I know. I always have two or three to spare."

Baia smiled and passed him a sealed letter over the table. "Your contact is someone called Fist. He works for the arl of Amaranthine and he'll make the introductions. The rest of the details are inside. You can take no more than 2 apprentices with for the journey, you'll have to rely on mercenaries if you want more backup.

Zevran got up and bowed his head slightly.

"And Zevran, do not embarrass us."

"Non sarà mai, signora."

When Zevran walked out of the office, he didn't really know what to do -it was would be against his new policy of 'non planning'-, the only thing he knew for sure was that the eel stew was giving him stomach ache, and that he'd better not take any apprentices with him. Just in case improvising took him somewhere strange.

_Listen to your gut._

Improvising was definitely going to send him somewhere strange. _Let's hope I live to see it._

* * *

**Aaaaand here's a chapter dedicated entirely to Zevran Arainai. Because I felt like giving him some background, because yes, why not? I've used italian for 'antivan' expressions, except for one that's in galician (my own mothertongue) because it sounded cool to me.**

**Translations-**

**voglio uscire: I want out (more or less)**

**mia cara: my dear (feminine)**

**dai dai!: come on! (more or less)**

**cozze e anguilla in umido: stew of mussels and eel **

**si: yes**

**ma Zevran!: but Zevran!**

**idiota: idiot**

**parvo ti: the comeback for the first insult, this is galician and it's roughly translated as 'no, you are stupid/silly'**

**buon uomo: (my) good man**

**stronzo: stupid, idiot (more or less, it can be worse)**

**non sarà mai, signora: never, madam**

**PS. There's a Mass Effect reference in there. Can you spot it?**

**Thanks as always for the lovely reviews and the new follows! :* :***


	21. Assassins like mushrooms

_-They grow everywhere, and some will kill you-_

* * *

As soon as he said it out lound he realized that was a bad plan. A terrible plan. A disastrous plan. The kind of plan that could get people killed, and not exactly their targets. Zevran was amazed to discover that while a part of his brain was mildly worried, the other part of him, the part that had come up with the idea of the new improvising policy, didn't care at all.

_You can die, stronzo!_

_Bah._

Zevran had met Fist, and then the arl of Amaranthine; a thin man whose eyes sparkled like those of a rat biting your ankles in the darkness of a cell. Then they both went to see that taciturn fallow for approval. That one definitely looked like his ankles were being bitten by rats. So miserable, so weary. The black circles around his eyes were almost unpleasant to see.

He urged the elf to be quick. Get on with it, finish the job. No matter how. He didn't have special requests. He didn't seem interested either. Zevran might as well have been talking him about crops and taxes for all the emotion he showed. A haunted man, Zevran thought. Scared of his own decisions to the point of accepting assassins as a solution.

Not that he was sure he was going to be a solution. The mercenaries and him had asked their way to the Wardens, and then followed them from afar for a couple of days. Well, a scout had, not all of them, it would've been too obvious and Zevran wasn't sure yet wether he wanted to be obvious or efficient. Though seeing the plan they had…

_Si potrebbe morire!_

_Psss._

Efficient was definitely not the word. Even if they killed their targets. The wardens weren't alone, and some of their companions looked certainly dangerous. Yes he was thinking about the qunari. Zevran sighed. Destiny plays its cards, and you gamble with what you've got, but absolutely blind. And sometimes… sometimes you take a leap of faith. The crow began to understand that with the strategy they had been building up, his only chance to survive whatever came next, was breaking the rope around his neck and taking his chances far away from the masters. Not that he particularly cared about death, but life was always a better option. He would –alas!- at least try, whatever there was to try. Gamble. And in the case everything failed and his throat ended up at the wrong side of a blade, well… it's not like didn't have it coming.

_Whatever I get, is probably more than I deserve._

He jumped off the rock where he had been sitting and motioned to the mercenaries to get ready for the ambush. It was a traditional ambush, that should work on most cases, but Baia had told him –and master Baia knew a lot of things- never to underestimate the enemy. The mercenaries were underestimating a group of 8 people four of whom were survivors of the worst battle of the decade_. Hmm, people need to learn the basics_.

-Let's see, Fransie, you'll go up the road and lure our friends to the ambush, they're known around these parts for having a soft spot for refugees and other outcasts so I don't think it will be difficult for you to attract them if you use the squeaky voice.

Fransie chuckled, all confidence, and Zevran got the feeling that she wouldn't be chuckling for long. _Oh well…_

Far away from the masters. Far away from them all.

* * *

"So, Leliana, tell me again about this vision of yours."

The lay sister stared at Miach for a few seconds, wondering if he was trying to mock her, for it was the third time he'd asked that question.

"Well, I don't really know what else to tell you, Miach…"

"For the love of the ancestors, Miach, shut up! Will you leave the woman alone for a sodding minute?!"

The grin in the elf's face instantly disappeared, and a pink blush painted his cheeks. He'd thought mocking the sister would be a better way to deal with his frustration with being stuck with her than yelling or sulking. Apparently he was wrong. Apparently, the only person who got to tease others without being yelled at was Morrigan. A privilege for saving their lives, perhaps?

Miach sighed, he was bored. Even if everybody seemed to be in a particular good mood that afternoon. After his interruption, Leliana had begun humming again while Wynne listened in amusement. Alistair was telling Iola some of his childhood adventures and now and then she burst into laughter. Gudrun and Morrigan were speaking in quiet voices, but none of them sounded worried or angry, which only left the possibility of them simply having a friendly conversation. Even Sten, who was as quiet as usual, sniffed the air sometimes with a peaceful expression. Miach thought he'd caught him once or twice looking at wild flowers.

They hadn't always behaved like that; on the previous days rain and caution had them keeping a low profile, even on a solitary road: two scouts ahead, mages out of sight, mabari going back now and then to make sure their backs were clear. Now at then they met straggled groups of refugees and even though they were regarded with questioning looks and unsympathetic expressions, they were pretty much left alone.

But then, the Sun had come out of his hiding spot behind the clouds and everybody started acting like they were on a trip to somewhere nice. Well, maybe Gudrun wasn't exactly on a vacation, but even she seemed to enjoy the sunbeams all over her pale skin. Miach chuckled. She was getting used to the surface.

"… so she put me on top of the dog and kicked it in the butt! And the beast starts running with me in its back yelling like a banshee!"

"You're kidding!"

"I swear that's how it happened! And you know what? I didn't fall until we reached the docks when that damned dog decided he didn't want to get wet and stopped so suddenly that I fell right into the water."

"Now I can believe that!"

"Heey!"

Miach rolled his eyes at them. Whatever had happened at the Tower of the Circle had brought Iola and Alistair closer; less unspoken opinions, less shrinking. Well that was good, they had to get along he supposed, for once he was trying not to be too mean with the sister. Just tease her a bit sometimes, just like Morrigan did with Alistair. Ah but Morrigan had priviledges he did not possess. _Hmpf._

Between the echo of their laughter, a third voice resonated. It was a woman, and soon they could see her.

"Help! Help! Please! Bandits! They have attacked us!"

His first instinct was to run to help, as any normal person would do, but he refrained himself and spyed Gudrun's reaction first.

"Who attacked you?"

"Bandits! Please you have to-"

"Are they still around?"

"yes! Please! They're not many but my faily and I can't! Oh please I barely escaped I don't know how much can my family resist!"

Gudrun twitched her nose and threw a significant look to Morrigan. The witch nodded and strode towards Miach while Gudrun unsheathed her axe and asked the woman to lead the way. Morrigan suddenly grabbed Miach's shoulder and gestured at Leliana to join them. Oh right. Strategy. Prevention. Caution.

Turns out, Gudrun was right. Of course she was. They ambushed the ambush. The giant bear that was Morrigan charged towards the hidden archers while Leliana and Miach offered long rage support to her and the rest of their companions. Wynne had been careful to stay out of sight, and for the first time Miach witnessed her outstanding healing skills. A marble. That allowed Iola to take a more aggressive role while still in cover and thus the obvious trap failed, even though they went through a grim bit when three arrows hit Sten and Morrigan gained some important cuts and bruises, but Wynne being there, when the fight was over, there was nothing to worry about.

Well… maybe there was something…

* * *

Zevran played dead for as long as he could, that is, until the damned mabari discovered he was breathing and his heart beating and that perhaps his or owner should be warned. Like he was going to try anything again. Against that people. He was a bad strategist but not stupid. And now he finally realized he didn't have a death wish either. A boot kicked him in the back, and a blade was softly pressed against his throat.

"Tell me something." The woman –a beautiful dwarven woman with an exquisite nose- said. No greetings no insults, just straight to business.

"Just one thing?"

She didn't answer, just glared at him. Zevran didn't see the necessity to disturb the silence.

"Tell me elf; are you that bad a fighter or were you failing at stabbing me on purpose?"

"A bit of both perhaps? I wouldn't say I'm a bad swordsman, but against you, my lady, I'm sure few men in the world-"

The blade was pressed a little harder.

"I just want to know if you are playing… or you're just mad."

Zevran himself couldn't find an accurate answer for that question. A player or a fool? Or a fool who's playing with what he's got? That thought elicited a small laugh out of his thought. By the look he got from the dwarf, he deduced she thought him completely crazy.

"I'm a gambler. Never had much luck, really."

A dark haired woman he hadn't seen approaching snorted. "Obviously. Just slit his throat." She said, dismissively, like he was some kind of bug. He felt a bit like bug, to be honest. Standing next to said woman there was a dark skinned elf and a very beautiful redhead who had the most lovely way of tapping her lips.

"We should question him first." She said, and looked embarrassed at the same time for having such ideas. _Funny._

"Questioning?" The time for secrets had passed. "You don't need to do that, I'll tell you what I know, if you wish to hear it. I suppose I should start with question number one; who am I and why do I want to kill you, right? I'm Zevran, Zev to my friends and I am –or was- a proud member of the Crows of Antiva."

The only one who seemed to recognize the name was the redhead girl.

"I have obviously no quarrel with you and was hired by someone else." The dwarf raised her eyebrows. Maker almighty, what a skin, like nobility's. "You wish to know who, of course. I'll tell you, I was paid for your deaths not for my silence, which I seldom sell by the way. My employer was a rather taciturn fellow at the capital… I believe Loghain was his name. He was the one with the bag of coins anyway."

All the members of the group within his range of sight threw at each other some significant looks. Obviously, as it happens, they knew their enemy. A large blonde man that had been standing at some distance approached him then. "Who did he want you to kill exactly? Just the wardens? Or something more… specific?"

"He only said wardens, but he said make sure they are all dead. The four of them. Maybe if he had known what a handsome piece you were he would've thought twice…" Ah… the look on his face was priceless. Even if they killed him now it would've been worth it.

"So… what? You're just telling us this to avoid the pain of interrogation?" Another woman, one of the mages, and the blonde warrior winced when she said that. She had a recent scar across her jaw. Ugh… too many new faces for his… oh yes, great, he was injured. Probably slowly bleeding to death. How charming.

"I think that's reason enough." He answered, trying his best to stay calm and focused, with that knife still against the soft skin of his neck. "My life is in your hands, and my pain –or lack of- so why not make things easy for you? I have no desire of dying."

The dwarf made a rumbling noise with her throat. "That's funny." But she didn't look like she was having fun. "You just tried to kill us. Why in the name of the Ancestors would we spare you?"

Zevran tried to straighten up and failed, the sharp pain of the wound in his hip keeping him in place. "I can be of use, I could serve you."

"Like you served your masters?"

"Heh, I know I don't come with the best recommendations…"

"Anyone can fuck up, but betrayal is something different, If we are to expect the same loyalty…"

"I happen to be a very loyal person! Provided that failing to do my job doesn't have me killed. Like it would if I return to Antiva with you still roaming the land."

"That's not reassuring." The blade stung. Blood began to drip, very slowly.

"You are worried that I might try again? You needn't. I'm already guilty at the eyes of the guild, they won't let this pass."

"And neither should I."

"Just kill him!" The elf snapped.

"If we set him free, he could very well try again. Regain the favour of his masters."

"Fuck the masters!" Zevran didn't know he was going to say that until the words were already out of his mouth. He was shocked, he'd never… it had sounded like a bark, but of course he was just a dog and even those people could see it. The dwarven woman could see it, but apparently she also could see other things because the knife slowly let go of his bruised skin.

"What can you do?"

It took Zevran a couple of seconds to recover from his outburst before answering. "I can fight, I'm not really that bad, I was pretending… I wished to… never mind. I am a trained assassin, I am skilled with poisons, traps, locks, emotional manipulation –ah… yes, I'm being honest here I promise-, blackmailing… I could warm your bed if you prefer. No? Alright then… I can also stand around and look pretty, you'll have to give me that won't you?"

"Don't push your luck, crow."

_Fair enough._

The dwarf stood up, finally, and looked at him like he was a cockroach she'd just step on. "Keep your friends close…" And the links to your enemies closer. "Wynne, Iola, patch him up. We need to get away from this place, fast."

"What? You're not seriously thinking about bringing him along?"

"And why not? Look at us, Alistair." That shut him up. "Sten, Alistair, Leliana, look around for anything useful and pack up. Morrigan you do your thing, Mahariel behind you."

The dark skinned elf –face all inked, reeking pride, probably dalish- looked down at Zevran, and the despise was clear in his eyes, but he gave him a slow, small nod, not quite approving, but not quite hostile either. "Fuck the masters." He repeated.

Ah, so improvising was really his thing. _Guts 1, brain 0._

**Aaaaaand Zevran joins the team! I honestly didn't look up the dialogue in the game, I just went with my heart and the things I remembered.**

**One translation this time:**

**Si potrebbe morire: you could die**

**Thank you to all of you who are still reading this and special thanks as always to the people that left reviews. I encourage every italian out there to come and correct antivan :***

**I want to dedicate this chapter to my favourite Zevran hater: FalconHawk 3**


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